


Subtle Like an Anvil Falls

by abcooper



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, Hogwarts AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-07-28 07:39:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7631071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abcooper/pseuds/abcooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>By her 3rd year at Hogwarts, Cat has found a balance - between her Slytherin classmates, her Gryffindor best friends, her distant mother, and the tension of oncoming war that threatens to tear it all apart. She isn't expecting some little blonde first year to pop into her train car and turn everything upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. year 1

**Author's Note:**

> It has been pointed out to me that prefects get chosen 5th year, not 3rd year - clearly I needed to do a Harry Potter reread before I wrote this, but I didn’t so we’re calling those kinds of mistakes “artistic license”
> 
> I'm having so much fun writing this you do not even know, I hope you like it, I like it o_o I don't think I have ever written a fanfic before that was so self-indulgent.

Cat was in the middle of a full-on sulk when the compartment door opened, and a tiny little blonde head poked in.

“Hello!” its owner said brightly. Cat stared at her with something like disbelief. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

The kid had to be a first-year - she was tiny, for one thing, and she had giant blue eyes that seemed to take up about half her face, behind a clunky pair of glasses. There was also something very insulting about the way she was eyeing Cat, as though she pitied her for having to sit all alone on the train; or worse, as though she thought she’d found a fellow lonely soul with whom to bond. Cat drew herself up with all the dignity a thirteen-year-old could manage and prepared to eviscerate her.

“Well, I don’t know,” she drawled, “I haven’t let anyone else sit with me. What exactly makes _you_ so special?”

To her surprise, the girl’s smile didn’t falter - if anything, it got bigger. “Not much,” she said, “but I’ve got train candy, and I’m willing to share.” She pushed the compartment door the rest of the way open and yanked an enormous trunk in behind her. Before Cat could find grounds on which to object, the girl had lifted the massive thing up over her head and tossed it lightly onto the shelf.

For a moment, Cat was impressed despite herself - then she realized A) that the girl’s parents had obviously cast a weightlessness charm on the trunk before they’d sent her off, and B) that while she’d been staring, the girl had made herself comfortable in _Cat’s_ train compartment, and was now sticking out her hand expectantly.

“Hi! I’m Kara - Kara Danvers.”

“Danvers?” Cat repeated, _not_ taking the girl’s hand. “That’s not a wizard name.”

The open smile dropped a little from the girl’s face as she withdrew her hand.

“You’re right, it’s not,” she answered flatly, and Cat belatedly realized how badly that had come out.

“For the record, I don’t have a problem with muggleborns,” she clarified, because not wanting to be friends didn’t mean she wanted anyone to think she was racist. “I just have a problem with people who invade my space without permission.”

“Of course,” Kara agreed skeptically, and alright, the girl was honestly cute like a puppy… which Cat had just kicked.

She unbent enough to add, “It just surprised me. I’m already wearing my Slytherin robes, and usually only Slytherins will talk to Slytherins. With a few… notable exceptions.” Which brought her back to the reason she was in such a bad mood in the first place, so Cat gave up on the conversation and went back to glaring moodily out the window.

“I’m not actually muggleborn,” Kara said after a moment, and that was surprising enough to make Cat look back at her. “My parents were killed a few years ago - my foster family was muggle, I took their name.”

“I’m sorry.” Cat answered, and Kara smiled at her, all gentleness.

“That’s alright. The Danvers are really great to me, and I still have a cousin, he’s already at Hogwarts!” She looked eager as a thought struck her. “Maybe you know him - Clark Kent? I was looking for him earlier, but I couldn’t find him.”

“Yeah, I know the little nerd.” Cat forced down the bitter lump in her throat to casually add, “He and Lane are in a prefect meeting, they’ll probably stop by whenever they get out.” Kara beamed at her like that was the best news she’d heard all day, instead of The Tragic Story of How Cat Grant Was Sitting Alone on the Train Because She Only Had Two Friends, One of Them Only on a Technicality.

“I’m so glad I ran into you, you’re seriously saving my train ride! What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t. It’s Cat Grant. You’re Clark’s cousin?” Obviously she was, she’d already said so, but it had taken a few minutes for that to click, with who Clark was related to and who had famously died and left behind a daughter. “You’re Kara Zor El.” she realized.

Kara turned pink. “That’s me,” she muttered. “Do you want some toffee? My foster mom packed some for me, if my sister didn’t steal it all out of my bag before we made it to the train station….” She dug around in her little backpack in a clear attempt to avoid looking at Cat until the subject was adequately changed. Cat let her.

Alura In-Ze had been the head of Magical Law Enforcement, and the presiding seat on the Wizengamot, for almost thirty years - years that very stuffy, conservative wizards liked to call “the golden age of the ministry.” It had been well understood that Minister Zor El was practically a puppet figure for his wife’s authority, but as far as the history books seemed to know, no one had minded that much - Alura was said to be the last direct descendent of Rowena Ravenclaw herself.

Clearly someone _had_ minded though, since the Zor Els’ house had been blown up by extremists six years ago. Neither of the Zor Els had survived the explosion, but they’d had the presence of mind to shove their five year old daughter into the Floo system.

Cat took the wrapped piece of toffee that Kara offered her. She didn’t recognize the wrapping, and after a moment it occurred to her that this must be a muggle candy brand, if Kara’s foster parents had packed it for her. She nibbled tentatively at a corner and then stared at it in awe.

“Is this … coffee-flavored?”

“Oh, maybe. There are a bunch of flavors in the bag.” Kara said, and smiled at her. “Do you like coffee?”

The candy lasted them through about fifteen minutes of small talk, which was fifteen more minutes of small talk than Cat ever deigned to give anybody else. She was reaching her limit even for Kara “small puppy wagging its tail every time Cat paid any attention to it” Danvers, when the compartment door banged open and Lois came stomping in, Clark following more mildly behind her.

“Well you’ll be glad to know that Lord and Willis are the slytherin prefects for your year, and they’re as odious as they’ve ever been.” Lois announced, barely sparing a glance for either Cat or Kara as she flopped into a seat. “Who’s your new minion, Kitty? You can’t be corrupting first years already, you’ve barely had half an hour.”

“Actually, this is the cousin I was telling you about.” Clark shot Lois a reproving glance while Cat was still stinging over the list of people who'd been made prefect over her, and pulled Kara into a polite hug. “Hi, Kara.”

“Hi, Clark.”

Kara’s smile for her cousin was equally polite and mild, which struck Cat as odd, since Kara had gushed about Clark when he wasn’t in the room. There was a story there. She watched them, narrow-eyed, as they sat stiffly next to each other, but said only, “Kara brought me coffee flavored candy, she is going to make an excellent minion.”

“Absolutely not!”

“You can’t have my cousin for a minion!”

Lois’ and Clark’s protests overlapped, and it was Lois who continued, “She’s obviously going to be in Gryffindor with us - how can you minionize her when she can’t even get into your common room?”

“Maybe I could be in Slytherin,” Kara disagreed, with a sideways glance at Cat. There was immediate loud protest from both Gryffindors, but it couldn’t diminish the slight warmth kindled in Cat’s chest by Kara’s obvious regard.

**

Cat didn’t have many close friends, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have assorted hangers-on in Slytherin. She had barely sat down at the table before an older boy named Perry White took the spot to her right, and a moment later Maxwell Lord slid in on her left, shiny new prefect’s badge on blatant display against his robes.

“Hello Cat. Perfect any dark curses over the summer?” was Max’s opening gambit, and Cat suppressed the urge to roll her eyes.

“Mm, shall I demonstrate?” she offered, sliding her fingers suggestively toward her wand.

“Could you two at least wait until after the sorting ceremony to start back up?” Perry suggested, sounding ridiculously put-upon for a boy who had practically launched himself at the bench for the chance to sit next to them. Quidditch teammates overruled all boundaries of age and dignity, Cat supposed.

A line of bedraggled eleven-year-olds were making their way up the center of the room, though, and Cat ignored Max in favor of eyeing them critically. Kara was toward the front of the line, and some tiny squat-looking boy had apparently latched onto her somewhere between the train and the great hall, judging by the worshipful way that he was gazing at her. Was it acceptable for her minion to have a minion?

Kara was the eighth student called, which was at least one advantage to calling herself ‘Danvers’ instead of ‘Zor El’ - although maybe Kara would disagree, judging by the way her knees shook as she sat on the stool and pulled the hat over her head.

Glancing across the hall, Cat briefly locked eyes with Lois in a moment of competitive spirit. ‘Gry-ffin-dor’ Lois mouthed at her, before turning back toward the stage.

The seconds dragged on into almost two minutes, and whispers started to break out across the hall. Listening for tone, Cat decided that they sounded bored rather than anxious - clearly the gossip about Kara’s secret identity hadn’t made it to the general population. She looked back up in time to see the hat open its mouth and crossed her fingers for –

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

“What!?” Lois’ outraged shout echoed through the hallway, and Kara made her way to the Hufflepuff table amidst laughter.

Lois and Clark would just have to be satisfied by a tall, calm-looking first year called James Olsen who sat beside them a few minutes later. That would probably be nice for Clark, who was used to being the only rational person in his whole stupid house.

It was over soon enough, and Cat eyed the new Slytherin first years distastefully over the feast; they were a scraggly looking bunch, compared to beaming, golden Kara Danvers, but they were slytherins, so they’d probably prove themselves given time.

“We’ve got to find a new Beater this year, you know,” Perry informed them as he shoved a mouthful of roast chicken into his mouth. Down the table, Leslie Willis tilted her head sharply toward the conversation - as the other Beater, she was very invested.

“When are you holding tryouts? I have suggestions,” she informed them, leaning heedlessly across the plate of a taken-aback second-year to be heard.

“I will take them under _limited_ advisement.” Perry answered. “No shenanigans this year, Willis - it’s my 6th year, I'm running out of chances. We’re going to win the cup or you are all going to die trying.”

As the only two girls that Perry, with the casual sexism of rich teenaged boys everywhere, had allowed onto the team, Leslie and Cat had been natural allies on a number of occasions, but there was no denying that Leslie was shenanigan-prone. There was also no denying that Slytherin had lost the Quidditch  Cup for the previous five years running. The team was strong this year, though - Max was an irritating ant begging at all times to be crushed, but there was no denying that he was a strong seeker, and Cat knew herself to be a superior chaser.

“Do it fast - Ravenclaw’s set as our first match, and none of them graduated, so they’ll have the advantage of a year’s experience together.” she offered.

“Mmm… I’d like a second-year, ideally. You three are all going to graduate the same year, I want to avoid setting Slytherin up for future failure.”

The conversation devolved into an analysis of the Quidditch strengths and personality weaknesses of potential candidates, and Cat felt comfortable tuning them out, turning her attention across the hall to Gryffindor table.

Clark was indeed talking to Olsen, and had gone so far as to place a fatherly hand on his shoulder. Cat snorted to herself - of _course_ he had.

“You’re staring at your crush again,” Leslie told her, reaching around to poke her in the shoulder. She said it as though Cat had become lost in dreamy sighs, instead of making the deliberate choice to ignore them in favor of mocking someone else. Cat tolerated it with a mere eyeroll - having a crush on a Gryffindor was laughable, but it was less of a weakness than the truth.

And the shameful truth was that Cat _liked_ knowing someone as guileless and well-meaning as Clark Kent. He was gentle with her, just like he was gentle with everybody, and nobody had ever done that before. She couldn’t begin to name the feeling it created in her, but she knew it was more meaningful than any third-year romance could ever be.

“He’s so boring, why can’t you stare at someone interesting once in awhile?” Max said, right on cue.

“He’s very good looking, it’s not like she’s staring at his personality.” Leslie pointed out reasonably.

“I like how quiet he is, it makes a nice change from the yammering morons that surround me.” Cat answered sharply, and then changed the topic. “What do you know about the new Defense teacher? I don’t see anyone new at the teacher’s table.”

No one knew anything, of course, but the speculation carried them until Leslie and Max stood to lead the first years down to the common room. It was with a sense of relief that Cat stood to follow them, and return at last to the Slytherin common room after an excessively long summer.

“Miss Grant,” the quiet voice of Professor Armstrong, the Potions professor, interrupted her. “The headmistress would like to see you for a moment in her office. Please follow me.”

Cat did so with only a sharp nod, silencing her desire to protest. Headmistress In-Zur created an initial impression of fairness and openness - she rarely required her title, and was widely known only as Astra to the student body. But it hadn’t taken long at all for Cat to have multiple run-ins with her, and she was well known amongst Slytherins to be partial to her own house of Gryffindor.

Still, she couldn’t _possibly_ claim Cat had broken any rules in the hour she’d been in the school so far.

When Armstrong led her into the office, Kara, Clark, and Lois were already there, seated uncomfortably on the edges of squishy armchairs. Cat helped herself to the spindly chair directly across from Astra’s desk, which had become her unofficial seat on the many occasions that she and Leslie had been dragged into this office the previous year.

Watching Gryffindor Quidditch practice from the bushes wasn’t cheating - it was strategy!

“Thank you for joining us Miss Grant, I won’t take up much of your time - I’m sure you all wish to spend your evening reuniting with your housemates,” Astra assured them, sitting regally behind her large desk. “I’ve called you here on a small matter. Miss Danvers assures me that you three are the only students aware of her identity as the child of the Zor Els.”

“Well yes, Kara is my cousin…” Clark offered, frowning. Lois looked equally uncertain, but Cat thought she knew where this was going.

“Yes of course. So you’re already aware, Mr. Kent, that Miss Danvers has been living with Muggles for her own protection. For the sake of her continued safety with her foster family, it is vital that Kara’s location does not become well-known among the wizarding world.” Astra took a moment to look them each individually in the eyes, and Cat sneered a little at the blatant attempt to Be Serious With Teenagers.

“Of course we won’t tell,” Lois said immediately. “We want you to be safe, Kara.” It was meant kindly toward Kara, who had turned a deep shade of pink as Astra spoke, but something about the way she said it sounded knowing, and Cat was reminded that Lois’ father was the head of the Auror department. She might know more of the story here than the rest of them, if Auror Lane didn’t keep his mouth shut at home.

Of course, Clark’s parents probably knew the whole story too, so maybe it was really just Cat who was in the dark about who exactly Kara might be in danger from.

“I am glad to hear you say so, Miss Lane. This is a serious matter,” Astra said, and her gaze lingered longest on Cat, a little sharper and sterner than it had been on the rest of them.

Cat sneered. “I’m certainly not going to bother gossiping to anyone about some first year - I have better things to talk about,” she answered loftily. “Is that all, Headmistress?”

If Astra was bothered by a thirteen-year-old dismissing her in her own office, she didn’t show it in the slightest. Kara, on the other hand, turned slightly pinker at Cat’s words, and looked down. “Yes, I think that’s everything - welcome back to Hogwarts, all of you. I trust that one of you knows the way to the Hufflepuff dormitory and will be happy to show Miss Danvers the way?” Her eyes twinkled - it was the least well-kept secret in the school that Hufflepuff was directly adjacent to the kitchen.

“We’ve got her,” Clark said firmly, placing his hand on Kara’s shoulder.

They made their way down the winding stairs together and said their good-nights, as Cat headed off in the opposite direction toward her own common room, grateful to go home at last.

**

Cat almost always sat with Clark for breakfast, mostly because Lois refused to wake up in time to eat anything in the mornings, and their housemates had long since given up grumbling about it. It was new to have a Hufflepuff join them, though - Kara was apparently still nervous enough to hang onto her cousin a little, even if it meant breaking house barriers. Olsen joined them after a moment as well, greeting Clark with a slight air of hero worship. Cat despaired for the state of the student body and the wizarding world.

“I can’t believe I’m surrounded by first-years before I’ve even had a cup of coffee,” she announced to the general public. Kara slid a mug in front of her in response - coffee, steaming hot, with just the right amount of milk. Cat decided not to question it, choosing to instead put her energy into a long, greedy sip.

“I guess you can stay if you bring me coffee,” she decided, when she finally resurfaced.

“Well, you did hire me as your minion on the train,” Kara pointed out, practically wiggling with pleasure at this lackluster expression of gratitude.

“True. What’s the other one for?” she jerked her head toward Olsen, who raised a slow eyebrow and made a show out of being unimpressed by her posturing. _This_ was why no one liked Gryffindors.

“Cat, be nice.” Clark chided absently, focused mostly on the paper in front of him. “Have you got your schedule yet? We’ve got Potions and DADA together again.”

“I saw. Slytherin is stuck with the Hufflepuffs for Transfiguration, I’m going to be accidentally turned into a desk chair by that moron Harper.”

“You’re cunning, I’m sure you’ll find a way to survive,” Clark answered amiably, and Cat kicked him.

“What’s the first year schedule like?” he asked, and Kara surrendered hers. “Ooh, double Charms first thing, watch out for Professor Crane - she’s got it out for her students.”

“No, she has it out for Gryffindors,” Cat corrected him gleefully. “Kara will be fine. Watch yourself, Olsen.”

“She’s not wrong.” Clark admitted. “Be careful in her class, Jimmy. You don’t want to get on her bad side if you can avoid it. The rest of your day looks alright… Herbology’s always fun, but bring your gloves - Professor Gates likes to show the first years what they’re in for by starting them with something slimy right off.”

“Stop spoiling all the surprises for them.” Cat teased. “Anyways, you’re the one who’s going to get covered in slime, did you see you’ve got Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon?”

Clark gave her a wounded look. “I can’t believe you didn’t sign up for it with me.”

“ _I_ don’t need any soft options padding my schedule.” Cat said, which was a paraphrase of what her mother would have said if she’d listened to all his begging and signed up for the class.

It was also true. Academics came naturally to Cat, and it was a pleasure to attend her first day of classes, ready to focus in and _excel._ She settled herself on a grassy patch of the castle’s front lawn afterwards with her first day of homework, glad to enjoy the last of the summer sun before dinner.

She was deeply absorbed in her arithmancy reading, when a shadow was cast over her book, and she looked up to see Kara Danvers next to her.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Kara asked, waving an odd white stick and a piece of parchment at her as evidence that she had no intention to interrupt. Cat supposed she must be working on the assumption that Clark would join them, which was not the case - Clark did the bare minimum of homework, and was probably off being boneheaded with a broomstick somewhere.

Still, Cat didn’t actively _mind_ the company, as long as Kara wasn’t planning to talk - which she presumably wasn’t, since Cat hadn’t so far been especially pleasant to her. She waved at the grass beside her and Kara flopped to the ground, lying comfortably on her stomach with her parchment in front of her.

She didn’t speak at all - when Cat finished her arithmancy reading and looked up, she was scrawling looping letters down the parchment at a rapid pace, using the white stick which was clearly some kind of muggle quill.

It didn’t look like homework, despite the absorbed expression on Kara’s face. Cat found herself breaking her own rule to ask, “what are you writing?”

“A letter to my sister.” Kara answered, smiling lovingly down at her parchment. “She’s really curious about hogwarts, I promised to tell her everything - I don’t think she realizes that the letter is going to be delivered by owl though.”

Cat snorted. “It won’t be - not to a muggle. Hogwarts has an access port to muggle post.”

She thought Kara looked a little disappointed by that, but she rallied. “Do you write home often?” she asked cheerfully, and Cat regretted breaking the silence - now that Cat had spoken to her, Kara clearly felt permitted to make small talk.

“I don’t. My mother and I write when we have something we need to say.” she said, and didn’t mention the weekly letters she’d sent home her first year, anxiously documenting her every minor success. She also didn’t mention the one letter she had eventually received back from Katherine, telling her that such regular communication was hardly necessary by age eleven.

She pulled out her potions homework in a pointed motion and Kara took the hint, turning back to her own letter. There was a blissful 30 seconds of silence.

“Kara! Hey, Kara!” Cat looked up to see the squat boy from the sorting ceremony bounding across the grass toward them. She hadn't been paying attention by the time he got to the stage, but he was clad in Ravenclaw colors, a tacky blue and bronze cardigan peeking out from under his robes.

Kara smiled at him, but Cat thought it looked a little less easy than the way Kara had smiled at her. “Hi Winn - started that transfiguration homework yet?”

“Not yet, I’ll get to it. You ran off earlier before we could talk! What was all that, that was amazing!!” Winn practically bounced with excitement, completely unheeding of Kara’s body language, which suggested that she was considering jumping into the lake to escape;

“Haha, it was nothing.” she said, sending a pleading glance in Cat’s direction.

Cat ignored it, her curiosity aroused. “What was amazing?” she asked, scrawling absentminded notes on her potion’s homework in self-erasing ink.

Winn looked as though he was noticing her for the first time. He took in her slytherin colors and her bored tone and stiffened a little. “Oh, nothing - nothing. Just - she did a really good job on the spell in Charms class.” he explained unconvincingly.

Clearly someone had already taught him to be wary of Slytherins. Cat rolled her eyes and got ready to destroy him, but Kara looked so relieved at the deception that she decided to let it go. Anyways, Kara had to have figured out by now that Clark wasn’t going to join them, and now she had better company than her cousin’s meanest friend.

“That is unsurprisingly boring, you are boring, you should work on that.” she told him and packed her bag. “I have to supervise quidditch tryouts, which are _not_ boring, so I am leaving. If I see Clark rescuing a puppy from a tree somewhere, I’ll send him your way, Danvers.”

**

She didn’t have to hear what was amazing in Charms class directly from Kara - the news traveled through the grapevine at the speed that good gossip always did. Kara, apparently, was some kind of magical wunderkind - spells just _happened_ for her with a touch of her wand.

The thing was, Kara was just somehow always around. At first Cat assumed that it was because she wanted to be around Clark but felt shy about actually seeking him out, but if anything, Kara seemed to be _avoiding_ her cousin, for reasons unknown.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have any friends of her own, either - she and Olsen had clearly bonded from the start. Even Cat had to secretly approve of him, a little - he just seemed a little more solid than the average first year, wandering around looking unfazed and competent. And the hobbit kid, Witt or whatever his name was, had clearly managed to win Kara over with his enthusiastic adoration for her, though Cat personally didn’t see the appeal.

Somehow, whenever Cat was alone, which was as often as she could manage it, Kara seemed to pop up. She didn’t really make conversation unless Cat started it, and she didn’t seem put off in any way by Cat’s occasional rude remarks. She just sat next to her and did her homework, or wrote one of the letters to her sister that she was _constantly_ writing, and she seemed content, and Cat found herself deliberately sitting in the same place next to the lake so that Kara would have an easier time finding her, if she wanted to.

“If you’re going to come out here and take up all my free time, you should start bringing me coffee.” Cat told her at one point, and the next day Kara showed up next to her with a steaming thermos. From that point on, they both dropped the pretense that they _weren’t_ deliberately meeting by the lake every afternoon, enjoying the rapidly fading sun.

Alex Danvers didn’t respond to any of Kara’s letters for almost a month, and Kara seemed to droop a little more every time she wrote one, which Cat was fairly sure she was doing _every_ day, and then one day as September blurred into October she came _bouncing_ over to their usual spot with a package of muggle sweets that her sister had sent her. It came with a short scrawled note that simply read, _sounds like you’re having fun. Don’t eat all these in a single day, and don’t die from some weird magic accident._

Kara _did_ eat all the sweets in one day, although she very generously shared them with Cat, handing over a pack of m&ms with only slightly mournful eyes.

The first Hogsmeade trip came up shortly afterward, and as a third year, Cat was allowed to go. She’d been to Hogsmeade once or twice on errands with her nanny as a child, and years even before that she vaguely remembered her father bringing her into the sweet shop, but it was a different and more adult kind of pleasure to be able to walk through the gates of Hogwarts and down to the town with the quidditch team.

She and Leslie and Max went together to look at the shrieking shack. Gray clouds loomed overhead, and the air was damp around them, full of the first chill of winter.

“Solid ghost weather, if that’s what you’re looking for out of the day.” Leslie muttered, rubbing at her arms through her thin robes as she shivered.

“Why would they board the windows up for ghosts?” Max asked, clearly not listening even slightly. "That doesn't make any sense." He was squinting at the shack with narrow-eyed contempt for its stupidity - not an uncommon expression on his face.

Cat couldn’t deny that she had some of the same questions, given power by the stillness of the day and the wet October atmosphere. The shack felt like an undiscovered story, beckoning her forward so she could be the one to tell it.

“I don’t know and I don’t _care_ , maybe they have embarrassing ghostly hairstyles and no one wants to look.” Leslie answered loudly, breaking the spell. “You know where the windows _aren’t_ boarded up? Places that have heat. And butterbeer. Such as The Three Broomsticks.”

“They don’t have ghostly hairstyles if they’re not ghosts.” Max murmured, still staring searchingly at the shack. If there was anything to be seen, someone would have seen it by now, and after a moment he gave up and looked away, nodding curtly at Leslie. “Fine - let’s go get a drink. You’re paying, since it was your idea, Willis.”

Abruptly, Cat didn’t think she could bear to be in their company for another moment. “I’ll catch up with you both there. I have some shopping to do that will go faster without anyone whining behind me.” She told them dismissively. Max and Leslie exchanged sly glances and Cat knew that they thought she was going off in search of Clark.

She might have, except that she was fairly certain that Lois thought Clark was going with her to Hogsmeade as a date, that Clark had no _idea_ he was on a date with Lois, and that neither of them needed her additional assistance to make their afternoon an awkward disaster.

Instead, she wandered on her own into Honeydukes, peering into bins full of ice mice and toffee flavors that Kara’s muggle relatives wouldn’t have dreamed of.

Cat’s father had died when she was four. Going into Honeydukes and picking out a treat was one of the clearest memories she had of him. Most of her memories weren’t really memories at all - they were copy-paste ideas that she had cobbled together from photographs and other people’s stories. Even the emotions felt layered on, all the things she wished she could feel for him carefully taped on along the edges. Hogsmeade had always felt steeped in the potential for his presence - like maybe if she could just sink into it in the right way, she’d feel all the things she wanted to feel about him.

She expected Honeydukes to feel that way even more so - expected to find herself surrounded by the memory of a memory. Instead, she remembered Kara sheepishly glancing at Cat from the corner of her eyes as she unwrapped her fourth mars bar in twenty minutes, the contents of her care package reduced to rubble.

Later she wandered into The Three Broomsticks, packed with Hogwarts students, and made her way to the bathroom as a way to put off looking for her friends for just a few more minutes. In the corner of the bar closest to the bathrooms, as far away from the student crowd as they could get, a group of Hogsmeade natives were huddled over glasses of firewhiskey.

“ - just disappeared from his home overnight, and no one’s heard from him.” one of them was saying darkly as Cat approached, and she paused for a moment. “Not a word about it in the Daily Prophet, of course.”

“Well, Meade always had a few little deals happening on the side - there’s a good chance he disappeared himself and he’s laughing at us all from somewhere tropical.” a woman pointed out.

“Without ever telling his sister, when she’s been running around frantic for over a week?”

“No point in even talking about it. We all know what kind of people Meade was meeting up with. It’s all part of a pattern, and it’s doing us no good to ignore it.” said a 3rd voice, and Cat continued into the bathroom, uneasy in a way she couldn’t quite explain to herself.

**

The weather was getting colder, and Cat was now the only person sitting out by the lake in the afternoon when Kara came to join her. She was clad in a thick sweater, so bright it almost hurt Cat’s eyes, and Cat sneered at it a little as she shoved a bag into Kara’s lap.

“I expect that this will last you about 20 minutes.” she said mockingly, and Kara gave a literal _gasp_ of delight as she explored the contents, pulling out a bar of Floating Fudge.

Cat worked on her transfiguration essay and ignored the way that Kara, hovering two inches in the air as an aftereffect of eating too much spelled fudge too quickly, was looking at her as though she hung the moon.

**

By the time November hit, it was too cold even for Cat to sit out by the lakeside anymore. Slytherin played their first quidditch match against Ravenclaw, and Lois came out and gave Cat a jaunty salute with a vivid blue flag.

They won, barely - Cat scored four times, once in a single continuous swoop from the other side of the field, which resulted in loud whistles of approval from the Slytherin stands.

Their new beater, a red-headed second year named Dave, was shaky at the best of times, and even more so in front of an audience - he let a bludger whizz past him straight at the goalpost, so that Perry had to do a kind of mid-air pirouette out of the way, letting the quaffle sail past as he spun in place to the sound of audience laughter. They were lackluster in comparison to Ravenclaw’s team, who had been playing together for over a year and who functioned as a well-oiled team.

Lord saved them in the end, catching the snitch while they were trailing 60 points behind. It was a win, but it wasn’t the kind of overwhelming victory with which they’d wanted to start off the season - especially since Ravenclaw had _smashed_ Hufflepuff in the first game of the year.

Kara and Cat sat together in the library to do homework some evenings, and now that it was cold, sometimes Clark joined them. Those were less productive evenings - Clark had the best of intentions, but he lacked the ability to sit quietly for more than 12 seconds at a time. He did his earnest best to respect their work ethic, but soon enough was overtaken by the desperate need to make polite comments about the weather, or quiet observations about the things that were obviously happening around them.

“Oh look, there’s Kelly - looks like she’s working on that cheering charm homework!” he said, and Cat smacked him in the head with her arithmancy book. “Ow! What was that for?”

Cat was fairly certain he was only hanging around with them because _something_ awkward had happened in Hogsmeade and now Lois was avoiding him. He alternated his time between following Lois around looking like a very penitent puppy, and retreating to drive Cat up the wall. She finally caved and _demanded_ that they both accompany her on the last trip into Hogsmeade before the Christmas holiday, hoping that with her as a buffer, they could repair their relationship enough to fall back into their usual pattern of softening each other’s worst traits so that she could tolerate them both.

She also caved to Kara’s most pleading face and took the girl’s Christmas shopping list with her. It was, unsurprisingly, all sweets.

The three of them walked down the snowy main street of Hogsmeade, bundled up in heavy cloaks and scarves and clutching cups of cider that were spelled to never go cold.

“Are you looking forward to going home for the holiday, Cat?” Clark asked her gently, and she nudged him a little with her shoulder, because despite herself she was grateful for his concern. Lois snorted.

“At least _you_ don’t have any siblings to deal with, Kitty. The older Lucy gets the more I want to throttle her with her own damn scarf.”  

But Cat could read caring in her snide tone as well, and her own voice distinctly lacked venom as she said, “she clearly sounds like the superior Lane.”

Clark kept darting sweet, charmed looks at her as she toppled everything from Kara’s list into her basket with a nonchalant air.

  
“Thanks for looking after her for me.” he murmured with a bashful smile, and Cat rolled her eyes. Overall, the first half of third year had been pretty alright.


	2. 2

At the train station, Cat saw Kara rush to embrace a tall brunette girl that _had_ to be the oft-mentioned foster sister. A short woman with gray streaks through her hair smiled benevolently behind them and waited her turn to swoop Kara into her arms. These rituals completed, Kara looked up and caught sight of Cat staring - she waved, frantically wheeling her arms to indicate that she wanted Cat to come over and say hello. Cat rolled her eyes and turned away, a little embarrassed to have been caught staring.

Her mother’s personal assistant - the closest thing Katherine Grant currently had to a house-elf - was waiting for her a little further down the station. She managed a distracted smile for her boss’ only child.

“Hello, welcome home - I’m to apparate you straight to the manor, your mother’s terribly busy.”

“It’s really just a house, Jane.” Cat pointed out, but Jane wasn’t listening - she only grabbed Cat’s arm and whisked her away.

It _was_ just a house, the same way Jane was just a personal assistant and not a servant. Katherine Grant put on pureblood airs so convincingly that everyone around her bought into it, but the truth was that the money and the lineage were both recent, limited things.

Cat thought that that was probably made her mother’s voice so shrill and tense when she shouted a greeting of, “you’re late dear, can’t that school find a better means of transportation than some shoddy old train? You’ll need to get straight into your new dress robes, I’ve laid them out for you, we’ve a dinner to attend at the Whites.”

“Mother, I’ve just walked in the door. I hoped we might have time to catch up a bit tonight.” Cat protested, as Katherine entered the foyer, already dressed in very fashionable silk robes - blue, of course, she would never be tacky enough to wear Christmas colors this time of year.

Kara was probably curled up at home in some ferociously ugly sweater with a Christmas tree or reindeer on it or something.

“Oh honestly, Kitty, you’re home for two weeks, I don’t see why we need to make some elaborate production out of it - much less turn down an invitation!” she paused, uncharacteristically hesitant, and made some delicate adjustment to a vase of flowers on a side table as she continued, “why don’t you join me in my office for just a moment after you get changed, there _is_ something I would like to discuss with you.”

When Cat knocked lightly at her mother’s office door half an hour later, clad in the expensive gold robes that had been laid out for her on her bed, Katherine was sitting in her chair relishing a glass of her favorite brandy. She ignored Cat for a moment, taking a light sip, and Cat took the opportunity to examine her, soaking her in after a semester away.

Katherine Grant went to great pains to appear in control, and when Cat had been a child she had believed it, soaking it in and feeling safe and resentful in equal measure. She looked at her mother now with older eyes and saw all the cracks - the age lines around her eyes that magic could only hide so long, the slight tremor in her wrist as she held her drink up as a prop of condescension. She was almost a caricature, something to be ridiculed or pitied. Cat cringed away from that thought.

Katherine had been alone with her insecurities and her arrogance for a long time. She could call her house a manor if she wanted to. A cage was a cage by any name, and see how prettily she’d decorated it.

“Is there something you need, mother?” Cat asked politely, after it became clear that Katherine was not going to speak first.

“Mmm… How was your semester, dear?” Katherine asked, and Cat took the seat across from her, ready to deliver her yearly report.

“It went well. My grades are high, Slytherin’s quidditch team is still in the running for the cup.”

“A silly sport - how much effect do you even _have_ as a chaser, Kitty? It all comes down to the seekers, and the rest of you are just window dressing.”

It was a tired subject between them - Katherine made the same comment every year, and Cat made her dutiful reply, “it's a good way to make connections, Mother.” and didn't try to describe the heady triumph that rushed through her with the quaffle in her hands and the wind in her hair and no one in her way.

“Yes, Magnus White’s son is the captain, of course.” Katherine agreed, and then added in a studied tone, “but are you still spending time with those Gryffindors you picked up?”

“Yes, I am.” Cat answered firmly. “They do me no harm mother - if anything, they help me avoid the anti-Slytherin bias that's so common in other houses. Slytherin connections will only take me so far if the other 75% of the world dismisses me on sight.”

This was a tired argument as well, but tonight Cat watched as her mother took a steadying drink of her brandy and prepared to go off-script.

“Kitty, I want you to listen to me for once instead of just nodding in the right places and then running off to do as you please.” she started, and treated her daughter to a sharp look. “That all might have been true once, but things are about to change - rapidly. It is _important_ that you avoid giving anyone an incorrect impression of where your sympathies lie.”

“My sympathies?” Cat questioned. Unbidden, the memory surfaced of a conversation overheard in Hogsmeade - ‘disappeared from his home overnight, all part of a pattern.’

“You are a Slytherin and a pureblood.” Katherine snapped at her. “You may like to play around in the gutter to skirt the edge of rebellion, but at the end of the day, you know what you are and what you stand for. This is not the time to give anyone a reason to question your loyalties… am I making myself heard?”

“You’re making yourself heard, but you’re not exactly explaining yourself! What exactly do you think is about to happen?”

“Nothing a thirteen year old has the capacity to understand, I assure you.” Katherine stood,made rigid by disapproval. “Come. We can't waste more time, we’ll be late.”

Cat might have been prepared to write her mother’s vague warnings off as empty posturing, but she couldn’t deny that _something_ had changed, even if it was all half-whispers and sideways looks. There was a tension in the air at the Whites’ dinner party, and later at the Lords’ and the Willis’ and the Travetts’. A sudden unspoken renewal of old alliances was taking place, hidden meanings contained in every word and moment of eye contact. Cat’s age-mates, who would normally have been exchanging sly remarks and seeing if they could get away with a glass of champagne, stayed almost silent, observing these adult interactions with a narrow-eyed focus that refused to become fear.

When Cat lugged her trunk onto the train for the beginning of the new year, she paused on instinct where she heard Lois’ teasing tones coming out of a car, followed by Clark’s good-natured laughter. The three of them had sat together every train ride since the very first one. But she remembered the fragile lines beneath her mother’s eyes, and she squared her shoulders and moved on.

She joined Leslie and Max a few compartments down. Derek Travett, a surly Slytherin 5th year, was already sitting with them, and she nodded curtly at them as she took the remaining window seat, staring sullenly out at the gray platform, covered in muddy sludge. The others didn't question her presence.

A shy second year named Tara Creed joined them a little while later, and then a pair of 4th years. Cat looked around the crowded compartment as the train departed from the station, slowly gaining speed. They’d all received the same warnings at home that she had, she realized with a dull pang of anxiety as she looked from one drawn face to another. This was Slytherin, drawing together and closing ranks against a threatening future. And Katherine Grant had been exactly right: at the end of the day, Cat knew what she was.

“Merlin this is boring. Did anyone bring exploding snap?” Leslie finally burst.

“Actually, I brought something better.” Max answered with a smirk. He stood to unbuckle his trunk, digging around for a moment before he emerged with a spare robe wrapped around some bulky item. He unwrapped it with great fanfare to reveal a bottle of firewhiskey.

“Excellent.” one of the fourth years breathed. Cat was about 80% sure his name was Garrett Blackwood. It might have been Gerry.

“Creed is _twelve.”_ Cat reminded them pointedly, ignoring the fact that she was only thirteen. Leslie rolled her eyes so hard it looked painful.

“Why didn't they make _you_ the prefect?” she demanded, dripping disgust.

“Believe me, I wonder the same thing.” Cat shot back.

“I can just go somewhere else.” Tara muttered, slightly red in the face.

“Don't be stupid.” Cat told her sharply, and gave the battle up as lost. “You’re sticking to pumpkin juice.” she said, as Max unscrewed the cap.

He took a deep gulp of the whiskey and his mouth did a comical kind of twist as he tried to take the taste in stride. He did alright, managing to pass the bottle sideways to Derek without any coughing.

They hid the bottle when the snack lady came around with her trolley, although their expressions must have given _something_ away, given how suspiciously she looked at them. Cat bought a bottle of pumpkin juice, and they experimented with mixing the whiskey into it to form a kind of punch, but that turned out to be even more disgusting than the whiskey was straight.

They were giddy by the time the train pulled in at Hogwarts, drunk on whiskey and rebellion and the bravery it took to throw fear away and laugh together at inconsequential things.

“Seriously, you should let me give you a piggy-back ride into the great hall, I bet you weigh 5 pounds wet.” Leslie was saying animatedly as Kara walked past. She was staring, an odd look on her face, and Cat considered how she must look, loose and laughing and letting Leslie hang onto her for balance.

Kara gave a tentative wave, and Cat let the whiskey keep her smiling as she didn’t wave back.

**

The next morning Cat made her way to the Slytherin table for breakfast with only five minutes to spare - partially the result of her very first hangover, but mostly a calculated choice. She usually had breakfast with her Gryffindors.

She grabbed a piece of toast and filled a mug with coffee, and spent a brief moment considering what would happen if she just took the remainder of the pot with her to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Henshaw had been a Slytherin himself, he always went easy on his own house - _maybe_ he’d let her get away with it.

She gave the idea up on the grounds that she’d also have to steal a jug of milk, and walking to class juggling it all might start to interfere with her dignity. She and her single mug of coffee joined the small herd of third year Slytherins moving toward the DADA classroom.

Most of the Gryffindors were already there. Clark and Lois were sitting at a table to the left, the same one they’d sat at all year, while Cat had sat with them.

She hesitated for a moment and then took a seat in the back of the room, hoping neither of them would look back and see her quite yet. Her hopes were dashed when Leslie sat down next to her, emitting a loud, “jumping ship, Grant? Don’t tell me you had a fallout with your Gryffindor lover!”

“Your voice is too grating and your makeup is too cheap for this early in the morning, Willis.” she muttered. The damage was done, though - Clark and Lois were looking back at her, Clark’s eyebrows furrowed in that way that reminded Cat of a confused dog whose owner had pretended to throw a stick and then hidden it behind their back.

He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again as Professor Henshaw entered - Henshaw was the kind of professor who could silence the room just by walking in. Cat wrapped both hands around her warm coffee mug and stared so hard at the chalkboard that ‘Elemental Poisons of Dark Creatures’ burned themselves into the back of her corneas, as little hurts in the present and fears of the future found a balance in her mind.

It took two more days before Clark managed to corner her in the hallway between classes.

“Cat, have I done something to offend you?” he asked her, and there was no mistaking the hurt in his tone, for all that he was striving to sound reasonable and concerned.

“No, of course not. I’ve just been busy.” Cat told him. She looked boldly into his eyes and didn’t flinch, because Cat Grant knew how to sell a lie.

“OK.” he sounded uncertain. “Well, Kara has missed you in the library… she had her birthday over the holiday, I think she wanted to tell you about it.”

Cat deflated. Dealing with Clark was one thing, but the image of Kara’s bright eyes filled with disappointment needled her in a different way altogether. “Sorry I missed her, tell her happy birthday from me.”

“You should tell her yourself.”

“Look, Clark, I just - there’s a lot going on right now.” Why was it so much easier to look him in the eyes when she was lying than when she was being honest? “Things at home, things here… I just need a little space to figure myself out right now.”

She looked up when Clark put a hand on her shoulder. He looked directly into her eyes, his expression grave. “I understand, Cat. Take all the time you need - we’ll still be here waiting when you look for us.”

He didn’t look away as he said it, gaze steady, and whatever he saw in her face in response made him nod in satisfaction. He gave her a last firm pat on the shoulder and walked away, and Cat leaned against the wall and tried to hold off the inexplicable tears.

Whatever his flaws, nobody had ever been quite as gentle with her as Clark was.

**

Slytherin creamed Hufflepuff in their quidditch match by over 200 points, which guaranteed them a spot in the final match. The upcoming match between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor would decide who they were playing against for the cup, which led to endless spirited debate in the Slytherin common room leading up to the match.

“Ravenclaw has the better seeker, but none of their chasers are getting a shot past Vasquez, she’s the best keeper Gryffindor has ever had - it all comes down to how fast the snitch shows up.” Perry White declared to anyone who would listen.

They were still debating it the next morning on their way down to breakfast, but when they arrived the great hall was oddly quiet. A fourth-year lent Cat her copy of The Daily Prophet - the front page headline was, “Mysterious Disappearance of Four Tourists from Wimbourne - Dark Activity Suspected.”

The quidditch match happened anyways - victory to Gryffindor. The future loomed ever closer to the present, and somehow they all kept marching forward.

**

Cat felt like she spent the entire rest of the semester with her breath held. Clark sent her understanding smiles that cut like knives, her mother sent her letters with ominous undertones, Lois sent glacial stares across the great hall, Slytherin lost the quidditch cup by a mere 20 points, Kara looked at her with uncomprehending hurt and didn’t try to talk to her, and through it all Cat waited.

Nothing happened.

Cat boarded the train with her trunk, ready to depart for the summer holidays, and for the first time, felt a glimmer of relief to be leaving Hogwarts. Nothing would truly be any better at home, of course, but at least she could be alone.

She walked past a compartment after compartment, hoping to find one still unoccupied, when she heard the sound of familiar, bright laughter - Kara’s laughter. She glanced in - Kara was facing away from the door, sitting with Olsen and the little Ravenclaw gnome. For a moment she was breathtakingly tempted - the year was over, how much harm could it really do for her to go in and wish Kara a good summer?

In the end, it was embarrassment that kept her moving forward. If she went in, Kara might want an explanation - an apology even - that Cat wasn’t sure she quite knew how to give.

She found a spot a few doors down - a compartment with one sleeping fifth year Ravenclaw, no doubt still recovering from her OWLs. Stowing her suitcase, she settled down and opened The Daily Prophet - she’d been reading it cover-to-cover everyday, looking for any piece of news that might hint at things to come.

“Ministry To Charge Tolls Along Common Floo Routes” was the front page headline today, and Cat glared at it resentfully, unable to see how it could link to anything important. She read the article anyways, just in case, and then the next one.

She was looking through the sports section, aggressively uncaring about a proposed uniform change for the Holyhead Harpies, when everything erupted into chaos.

Cat was on the floor, and it took her a moment to understand that the ringing in her ears was because something very loud had happened, and that the train had jolted with enough force to knock her out of her seat. Across from her, the Ravenclaw girl was clutching her arm, white-faced with pain.

She still couldn’t hear, really, and the world lurched sickeningly around her for a moment as Cat scrambled to her feet, but she pushed through the dizziness and forced open the compartment door to find out what was going on.

Other heads were popping out as well, a grim silent bunch staring at the damage in front of them.

The train had been ripped in half by an explosion. At least, that was what it looked like. An entire compartment had been obliterated - nothing left of it but ragged metal edges and torn cushions illuminated by garish sunlight.

Taken over by a numb kind of calm, Cat counted the compartment doors leading up to the destruction, but she didn’t really need to - she knew already whose compartment the explosion had hit.

She already knew that Kara Danvers was dead.

**

“Attention Hogwarts students! It is imperative that you stay calm, and stay silent. Line up single-file and exit the train through the closest door, please. If there is an injured student in your cabin, send up a red flare with your wand and an adult will come to assist you.” the voice, magically enhanced to be easily heard throughout the train, belonged to Astra.

Cat watched as, around her, more students began to shakily enter the corridor and make their way out of the train and onto the grassy hill beside it.

“Cat? Cat!” A hand landed on her shoulder and she brushed it off absently. It came back, like a pesky fly, and in a moment there was another on her cheek, forcing her face around until she was looking into Clark’s eyes.

“Cat, what’s the matter? Are you hurt?” he asked her urgently. She took a moment to process the question - was she hurt? She didn’t think so. She shook her head no.

“Then what’s going on? Why are you crying?” Clark’s voice was firm and calm - he was always good in a crisis, solidly built inside and out.

Cat wasn’t crying though, that was ridiculous. Shouldn’t Clark be the one crying? Maybe he didn’t know.

“The compartment that exploded - Kara was in it.” she told him, and her voice came out hoarse. Clark looked panicked for a moment, and then visibly shook it off.

“What? No, Cat, Kara is fine - I just saw her, she’s outside. They’re saying the compartment was empty.”

It wasn’t empty. If there had been an empty compartment Cat would have sat in it.

“Come on, we’ll go find her, alright?” Clark said, steering her gently out the door.

Cat blinked in the sunlight and Clark led her to the right, past several cars. She was dimly aware, in the background, that students were being directed to get into their houses, and Clark led her toward the sea of yellow.

“There, see? She’s right there.” Clark pointed - and there she was, with her halo of messy blonde hair and her clunky ridiculous glasses. Kara was pale and shaking, speaking to the headmistress in low tones, but clearly gloriously alive. A moment later both she and Astra vanished - side-along apparition.

  
“She’s fine, Cat.” Clark repeated, and Cat buried her face in his broad chest while she fell apart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you soooo much to spaceshipsarecool for being the best imaginable editor omg (also the most patient). All remaining mistakes are, of course, mine. And frankly she probably pointed them out but at that point i was bored with editing.

Cat crumpled the piece of parchment in her fist, a dramatic gesture intended for no one’s benefit but her own. She sat alone at the desk in her bedroom, trying for the dozenth time to write words that wouldn't come.

What could she say to Kara anyway? ‘My mother said that avoiding you would be safer so I listened to her, but I didn’t know she meant people were going to blow you up. My bad. How’d you survive that by the way?’

Apologies were meaningless under the best of circumstances, but they felt especially stupid now. Fear and uncertainty were jangling against each other in an overwhelming mental cacophony. She didn’t know who or what to be in a world where trains exploded. Where people could get hurt, people she knew, and her mother had maybe known it was coming. She veered away from that thought, frightened to linger on it.

When she thought about it, it wasn't really about Kara at all. Kara wasn't that important to her, was she? Some smiling, bright-eyed girl who’d looked up to Cat for a couple months, who'd smiled at her like she thought Cat was something special.

It wasn't about that. It was about Cat. It was about who she chose to be. So really, it made sense that the words for a letter to Kara wouldn't come. 

‘I trust you’ve made it a week into the summer without getting yourself blown up. A confirmation would be nice, since apparently you can't make it through a train ride,’ she wrote instead, and tied it to her owl’s leg.

Her mother’s approval had its perks - the sleek, tawny owl was one hell of a coming home present. She’d named him Carter.

“Find Kara for me - Kara Danvers. I’m not sure where she is right now. Maybe in the muggle world with her family,” she told him, offering up a treat as thanks. Carter didn't really like being stroked, but he found other ways to show his affection. 

He took the treat delicately in his beak and offered her a muffled hoot of reassurance before taking off out the window into the warm summer breeze.

She watched until he was a distant speck on the horizon, and then collapsed onto the silk sheets of her bed with a sigh. 

A little while later there was a polite knock on her door, and Cat looked up as Jane poked her head through. “Cat, your mother would like to see you in her study,” she said, and Cat nodded her acquiescence.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” she said, and looked back out the window at the empty sky. It would be days before she got a response. She could be patient; she’d gone an entire semester without speaking to Kara, what was one more week?

When she entered the study, Katherine Grant was, as always, behind her desk. For once she didn’t waste any time.

“Kitty, I’ve invited Elric Willis’ daughter to spend a portion of the summer here. I’ve just heard back from him, she’ll be arriving in four days.”

Cat took a deep breath and gave the unwelcome information a moment to sink in. “How long will she be staying?” she asked, trying her best to maintain a neutral voice.

“A month.” Katherine studied Cat with sharp eyes. “I thought she was a friend of yours, Kitty - one of your little quidditch pals.”

“We maintain a friendly relationship, but she can be grating in close quarters,” Cat admitted, caught. Searching for a way to appease her mother, she added, “her manners aren’t what I expect from our class of people, that’s all.”

“Yes, well, Elric  _ did  _ marry rather low, I expect the girl gets it from Aradia,” Katherine answered. “I couldn’t stand her at Hogwarts, it was  _ quite  _ the scandal when she landed Elric.”

“Perhaps Leslie will benefit from her stay with us,” Cat said. “She can see how a proper wizarding home is run.” Katherine let out a wry laugh.

“Oh Kitty, if you’re going to kiss up to me, try to be more subtle about it. Our house is half the size of the Willis’ manor, she’s going to view it as spending her summer in a hovel. I don’t buy into my own publicity, you know.” 

That was news to Cat, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.

“Nonetheless, it is to our advantage that Leslie is staying here, and Elric is doing us a very great favor by allowing it,” Katherine continued. “The Grant name hangs onto its status by a very thin thread. You’re becoming older Kitty; that means it is becoming your responsibility to help me solidify that status. You will do that this summer by making sure that Leslie Willis is shown  _ every  _ courtesy while she is here.”

Cat stared at her mother. She’d never heard Katherine say anything like that before. Katherine had always held her head high, had always seemed oblivious to the world around her as she buried herself in her own pride. 

Some part of Cat unwillingly bent in the face of this new awareness, wished that the world would let proud, petty Katherine Grant have her delusions. It was an emotion that fell somewhere between pity and resentment, and she shoved it away as best she could, already impatient with it.

“Yes, mother,” she murmured. “I’ll ask Jane to get the guest room ready.”

**

Carter didn’t come back until the morning of Leslie’s arrival. She woke to the sound of pecking at the windowsill, confused for a split second before she made out his silhouette against the pre-dawn light and was pulled into total wakefulness.

She let him in and forced herself to calmly add a handful of treats to the pellets in his breakfast dish, waiting until he began to eat before she untied the piece of parchment from his leg.

She unrolled the parchment and took a moment to fully register the sight of her own handwriting. ‘I trust you’ve made it a week into the summer without getting yourself blown up….’ it was her own letter, returned unread.

Carter hooted mournfully at her, his head ducked in shame, and she stroked his head one reassuringly.

“It’s not your fault, darling - not at all,” she promised him, despite the sinking feeling in her chest. Had Carter been unable to find Kara, or had she refused to take the letter? She had trouble making herself believe it - Kara had always been willing to forgive her every stupid, petty thing before. Cat didn’t think grudges were in her nature.

Could something have happened to her?

Sitting down at her desk, she scrawled out a fast note to Clark. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to send you out again, sweetheart,” she told Carter, who held his leg out eagerly - Cat thought maybe he wanted to make up for his previous failure.

“Take this to Clark Kent,” she told him, tying the letter carefully to his leg. “But I need you to do me a favor, alright? Make sure that you don’t bring me his reply until I’m alone - there’s going to be an extra human around here for awhile. You can’t deliver his reply in front of her, alright?”

Carter chirped what sounded like understanding and pecked at her fingers just a little before taking off back into the sunrise. She watched him go for a moment and then sighed and went to shower. There would be no going back to sleep; nervous energy danced through her chest.

Leslie wasn’t scheduled to arrive until late afternoon, and Cat couldn’t deny that she was genuinely dreading it. She spent her day finishing off the last of her summer homework, since Leslie had never shown any signs of a scholarly nature. 

‘Quod erat demonstratum, no physical object can be separated from its full nature. It is this property of magical ingredients that causes the sum of a potion to be greater than its individual parts…’ she wrote, and stopped to measure the length of her parchment. It was exactly 12 hands long, and Professor Armstrong had asked for 12-14. She’d finish her conclusion and be golden.

As she scrawled the last words onto the sheet, the quality of the light in the drawing room abruptly shifted, and she looked up to see that the fireplace had turned green. Hurriedly she rolled up her potions essay and shoved it into her schoolbag, taking a moment even in her haste to make sure everything was stacked neatly. Not a moment later, Leslie stepped through the fireplace, coughing. She had a bag in one hand, and her broom over her shoulder.

“Merlin, I hate floo,” she announced, not bothering with any actual greeting. “Why forbid me from smoking if I’m going to inhale an entire ashtray any time I go anywhere?”

“Good to see you too, Willis,” Cat answered dryly. “Yes, my summer has been lovely so far, thanks for asking.” Leslie grinned at her, all sass and overconfidence. 

“Alright, Grant - show me where to shove my shit, and let’s go get the courtesies over with your mother. We have a solid 5 hours of light left to start coming up with quidditch strategies - the cup is gonna be  _ ours  _ this year.”

Despite herself, Cat found a genuine smile forming on her face - possibly for the first time all summer. There wasn’t much that could improve her mood faster than the prospect of quidditch. “Yeah, good luck racing through that - you better believe you’re getting the full Snotty Etiquette treatment before we’re allowed outside.”

“Well at least  _ she  _ has manners - I don’t know where all that trademark Cat Grant bitchiness comes from.”

“Please, as if I needed to learn it. It all comes naturally to me,” Cat sniffed, and led Leslie through the foyer and up the stairs. 

Katherine wasn’t wrong that their house was about half the size of the Willis manor - if that. Cat knew from countless dinner parties and functions that Leslie was used to being waited on hand and foot by three family house-elves. Still, Katherine was skilled at creating the impression of wealth, and the decorations through the house created a very successful illusion. There wasn’t much for Leslie to scoff at as she settled her things into the guest room and sank into the luxurious mattress with a few testing bounces.

“So, have you heard anything about our mystery train explosion?” she asked in her most casual voice. Cat tensed just a bit.

“I haven’t heard a goddamn thing from anybody - Merlin, summer is boring, with everybody fucking off to France or wherever else. I figured I’d have to wait until Max’s dinner next week to get caught up on the interesting news. I certainly didn’t expect you to be useful,” she drawled, and Leslie rolled her eyes expressively.

“No doubt I’d hear anything before  _ you  _ would, hidden out here in the barren wastelands of Lincolnshire,” she said snidely. “But I thought maybe your little Gryffindor pals would know something interesting - don’t think I missed that blonde Hufflepufflet talking to Astra right afterwards. Didn’t she spend half the year following you around like a stray dog?”

Cat went cold. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’ve shed a few mongrel pets this year,” she answered, keeping her tone casual and cruel. “I know where I stand - and it’s not with the blood traitors and the muggleborns.”

Leslie eyed her sharply, and Cat cursed herself for overplaying her hand. Leslie was so annoying - how could Cat have let herself forget that she was also  _ smart _ ? 

“Fair enough,” was all Leslie said in response, and she stood, all casualness. “Let’s go say hi to your mum and get ourselves outside. I can see you’ve got all sorts of bitchiness to work out on the quidditch pitch.”

***

Aside from the  _ constant  _ sniping, Leslie wasn’t actually terrible summer company. She and Cat took their brooms and some parchment out and spent the entirety of their first few days working out new quidditch plays to bring back to Perry White, much to Katherine Grant’s obvious annoyance. Cat relished it, a little - Katherine never would have let her spend so much time on her broom if Leslie hadn’t been there.

Two days passed in relative peace. On the third morning, Cat woke once again to the sound of Carter tapping at her window.

“Welcome back, darling.” She let him in and forced herself to take the time to coddle him properly before she pulled the letter off his leg with gentle hands. She unfolded it with bated breath, and was desperately relieved to see Clark’s messy, scrawling script covering the page.

_ Hello Cat, _

_   I hope your summer is going well, I’m really really glad you wrote to me. I’m not surprised you weren’t able to get into touch with Kara - Astra put her into hiding straight off the train. We’ve heard she’s safe, but we don’t know exactly where she is. You thought she was the target of the explosion, and you must have been right, but nobody is saying much. I guess maybe in letters, we shouldn’t either, hey? _

_   Your birthday is coming up! Happy 14th if I don’t hear from you again. I hope we’ll get the chance to talk a little more at school this year, I know it can be hard for you to communicate from home. Take care of yourself, alright? _

_ Yours, _

_ Clark _

Cat felt like she took the first full breath she’d had all summer. Kara was safe. Clark was still a gentle giant dork. She had made mistakes last year, but it wasn’t too late to set them right. And if Clark was ready to forgive her, maybe Kara would be too - the one thing Clark and Kara consistently seemed to have in common was their tolerance of all Cat’s sharp edges.

Before she went down to breakfast she scrawled out one more brief note for Carter to deliver.

_ Lane, _

_    I assume you’re home and tormenting your baby sister to good effect. See you next year. _

_ -Cat Grant _

Clark was right that her 14th birthday was coming up - it would be the same night as the Lords’ dinner party, in fact. Cat wasn’t expecting her mother to acknowledge it in any particular way - she’d already received Carter as a gift.

Nonetheless, she awoke the morning of her birthday to new dress robes and pleasant regards. That evening, they showed up to the party in full regalia, making their way down the path. It was lined with pixie lights that twinkled brightly against the fading summer light, creating a gorgeous effect.

“Merlin, that’s ostentatious,” Leslie murmured into Cat’s ear and Cat smirked just a little, having already had a week to reaccustom herself to Leslie’s deliberate vulgarity. They were properly announced at the entry way and said their polite greetings to the host, and after that Leslie and Cat were relatively free.

“I suppose we should find Max if we’re any kind of polite,” Cat said, unable to hide quite how much she didn’t want to. The past week with Leslie had been downright bearable; the combination of Max and Leslie was anything but.

“Eh, he’ll find us,” Leslie said with a mischievous tilt to her lips. “It’s your birthday - come on, I’ve got plans for you.” She grabbed Cat’s hand and pulled her around the edge of the crowded main hall, along the edges of the dining room, and into a hallway.

Cat took note of the ease with which Leslie navigated through the space. At Hogwarts, in Slytherin, Cat knew that no one would ever dare look down upon her - she’d worked hard to earn that space. Her social skills, spot on the quidditch team, high grades, and general willingness to destroy anybody who crossed her meant that she was part of the Slytherin elite. But here, in these summer interludes, there was no denying that she was separate from them.  Leslie had grown up wandering these hallways, as all the pureblood children had. They’d visited one another, been tutored with one another. Their power was built on ancient alliances with one another, forged through generations of tea and wine and brittle smiles. Outside the sheltered halls of the school, Cat’s position with them was precarious.

She understood why her mother was frightened.

Leslie led them into a narrow hallway, presumably the servants’ access between the great hall and the kitchens, and snagged a bottle off of a waiting cart before leading them through another pass into a small sitting room, and then out onto a balcony.

“Max and I used to hide out here all the time as kids,” she said a little wistfully, confirming everything Cat had been thinking. “He’ll come meet us here whenever he’s able to escape.”

“Mmm… what’s your prize?” Cat asked, nodding at the bottle, and Leslie turned it so that Cat could see the label - ice wine.

“Happy birthday from the Lords to you,” she said with a grin, and ran her finger along the magicked seal. It glowed briefly, and the cork released itself from the bottle with a quiet pop, turning into blue glitter that hovered for just a minute in the warm night air before fading away. “No cups, I’m afraid,” Leslie said a little mockingly, and handed the bottle to Cat.

“You do know how to show a girl a good time,” Cat said dryly, and took a bold swig. The wine was sweet and refreshing, nothing like the burning intensity of the firewhiskey they’d drunk together a year ago. The flavors played gently across her tongue, and when she exhaled, she felt the cold tingle of the wine’s magic going into effect, making her breath frosty and visible against the night. “Nice,” she said, and was surprised to mean it.

“Well, let me have some and find that out for myself, then,” Leslie demanded, holding out an impatient hand.

“I thought this was my birthday present?” Cat said snottily, and pointedly took another slow sip before handing the bottle over. 

They traded it back and forth, tipsy on their own boldness long before the alcohol could have possibly taken effect, exchanging snide remarks about the outfits they’d passed in their escape. They were halfway through the bottle before Max showed up.

“Well, I see you two have been having a nice time while I bowed politely to every doddering old wizard who’s ever had two galleons to rub together.” That was a blatant lie - the Lords’ summer soiree was as exclusive as it was pretentious. 

“Don’t act like you weren’t in your element, I know how much you enjoy being oily,” Cat said lazily and held the wine out to Max in invitation. He rolled his eyes.

“Have you two been drinking 50 galleon wine directly out of the bottle? That’s sacrilege - I’m getting glasses,” he said, and turned back out the door.

“Bring more alcohol while you’re at it,” Leslie called after him.

“He shouldn’t,” Cat pointed out, and took another sip. “My mother’s bound to notice if she’s escorting two drunk teenagers home. It’s going to cut into our quidditch practice if you get sent home in disgrace and I get grounded for the rest of my life.”

“Eh - but it’ll keep him occupied for an extra five minutes,” Leslie said, pulling the bottle out of Cat’s hand and taking another swig of her own. “I have something I want to say to you, Max-free.”

Her face was close enough to Cat’s that Cat could feel the magical iciness of Leslie’s breath against her own lips. The first inkling of what was about to happen glimmered in her tipsy mind, and then Leslie murmured, “Happy birthday, Cat,” and pressed their lips together.

For a moment Cat was still, just processing the dry brush of Leslie’s mouth over her own. It was brief, and then Leslie pulled back and lingered scant centimeters away, their breaths intermingling for a moment in an unspoken question that Cat scrambled to find an answer for.

She took too long and Leslie began to pull away, but Cat grabbed her shoulder to stop her, leaning back in to brush her lips against Leslie’s again, more as a way of buying time than anything else. 

Cat had never kissed anybody before. It wasn’t on her radar yet as anything she wanted to do. She knew that the warm, tender feeling Clark evoked in her wasn’t quite what people meant when they talked about crushes, but she supposed she’d always thought that eventually those feelings would come. It hadn’t occurred to her to wonder if she’d feel that way about women instead of men. The sensation of Leslie’s lips moving under hers certainly wasn’t  _ bad.  _ Experimentally she gathered Leslie closer to her, moulding their curves together. Leslie let out a breathless little sound in response, and as her lips opening against Cat’s, something sparked liquid and hot within her, made her pull Leslie’s bottom lip between her teeth and give a little nip.

They were both panting when they finally pulled back, staring at each other with shocked eyes.

Abruptly, Cat felt overwhelmed. The wine and the kisses melded with the very real adult politics happening half a mansion away; with the thought of Kara, distant and hidden and in danger; with wealth and status and everything that was looming over their heads. They were children playacting, a grim farce that was going to come crashing down.

She wanted Clark.

She wanted the simplicity of just having a friend.

Instead, the moment was broken by the opening of the door as Max came back out, precariously balancing three glasses. He set the glasses down and then paused, looking between them as though he sensed the tension he’d interrupted.

“You two having fun?” he asked wryly.

“Well you know, Max, it’s never a party until you’re here,” Cat said silkily, and took one of the glasses. Adulthood was rising up to eat them, but they were brave, and they had time. After all, what other choice was there? She would keep playacting until the game was done.

The stars of the summer sky stretched out overhead, going on to infinity in every clear direction. Cat lay down on the balcony so that they were all she could see.

“Happy birthday to me,” she murmured.

**

The next morning Carter came back from his delivery to Lois. This time, there was no parchment on his leg at all. The message was very clear - well, Lois had never exactly been subtle. 

Cat tried to ignore the quiet hollow spot in her chest that had opened up at the sight of Carter’s bare leg, but the subtle side-glances Leslie was throwing her way weren’t exactly a  _ pleasant  _ distraction.

She waited until they were outside to say in her most casual voice, “thanks for a wild birthday night, Willis. Those were some crazy wine shenanigans.”

“Well, like you said - I know how to show a girl a good time,” Leslie agreed with a smirk, and Cat knew she wasn’t imagining the slight fall to Leslie’s face, or the disappointment undercutting her voice.

The rest of Leslie’s visit was stilted. They found their way to an even balance over quidditch plays and sarcasm, but something had been cut short. There were other parties, other Slytherin gatherings. Cat mingled and made connections, was gracious enough to even earn a startled smile of approval from her mother, but she didn’t let herself forget her distance from them again. Something was looming on the horizon; something larger than school friendships and first kisses. Leslie’s very first night there, Cat had told her:  _ I know where I stand.  _

She was going to stand against them all.

**

In September, Cat broke through the barrier to platform nine and three quarters with her new goals steady in her mind. She knew the balance she needed to strike. On the train, she no longer needed to find a compartment of Slytherins to sit with; they came to her. Tara Creed, now a 3rd year, shyly took the spot next to her, asking after her summer in a quiet voice. Leslie and Max filtered in not long later. 

That was part of the balance. But during the feast, she kept a subtle eye on the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, and when she saw a blonde head stand up and depart, she casually excused herself.

She followed Kara out of the great hall and down the passage toward the kitchens. “Kara, wait,” she called out. Kara spun, clearly startled, and Cat got her first good look at her since before the explosion.

“Cat?” she asked, her voice just a little disbelieving. “Um…. hi. How was your summer?”

“Look, just - “ Cat grabbed Kara’s arm and pulled her down a side hall that she thought might let out near the charms classroom, where they wouldn't be interrupted. She wanted to apologize; to say how glad she was that Kara was alive, that she hoped her summer in hiding hadn’t been completely shitty. But nothing she said could capture the angry humming under her skin - the mantra of  _ never again, never again _ that had buried into her bones and replaced her blood. Never again would she stand on the sidelines while other braver people did the right thing. Never again would she be content to stay uninvolved. Never again would she be helpless. Instead she just stared, and Kara stared back.

Kara looked quieter, tensed and muted as though all the happiness had been drained out of her. It was like all the sunshine in the world had gone out.

“Oh, Kara,” Cat said, and pulled her into a hug. The girl squeaked in surprise, but her arms came up readily to circle around Cat, and she buried her head in Cat’s shoulder. For a few long moments they clung to each other. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at that, two chapters in one week, i assume my "Most Productive Human" award is in the mail

Cat walked into the great hall on the first day of her fourth year for breakfast and Kara waved enthusiastically to her from the Gryffindor table, where she was huddled up with Olsen and her hobbit. Ah, interhouse unity. Cat gave a little finger wiggle of a wave in response, doing her best not to look too sarcastic about it - or at least, the best she could do before she’d had any coffee.

She sat down next to Perry White, who had his face flat on the table. “Year off to a good start, then?” she inquired casually, helping herself to a mug and reaching around him to grab the coffee pot.

“Dave Welker isn’t back at school this year, we’ve got to find a new beater. Can you make tryouts this afternoon?” His voice was muffled against the table, and Cat rolled her eyes.

“Fine, but you’d better get an announcement up in time for everyone to see it. You’ll be glad to know that Willis and I spent the whole summer developing a set of beater-chaser combo strategies. Welker was worse than useless anyways, anything will be an improvement.”

Perry tilted his head partially off the table. “Did you help Willis nail that backbeat?” he asked, and hoisted himself the rest of the way up when Cat nodded. “That’s going to make a difference, with the way Gryffindor’s chasers like to fly in low from behind.” He grabbed the coffee pot from in front of Cat and poured his own cup.

“Don’t forget that two of their chasers graduated last year,” Cat reminded him. “We don’t know what to expect this year, really - we have to be ready for anything.” Side-eyeing him a little, she added, “Why isn’t Welker back, anyways? That’s a bit odd, to just drop off at the end of second year.”

“Oh, nobody knows,” Perry said a little absently, his mind clearly still on quidditch strategy. “There’s a rumor going around that his family went on holiday in France and never came back. Henshaw didn’t tell me anything though - just said we shouldn’t expect him back. I about had an aneurism - my 7th year, you know, and I’ve been on the team since 3rd year.”

“Oh have you been?” A 6th year boy named Daniel Pendergast sat down across from them. “I had no idea, Perry, tell me all about it.”

“Or you could fuck right off before I break my coffee mug over your head,” Perry offered back, but in a friendly enough tone of voice. Cat eyed him a little suspiciously anyways - breaking a coffee mug over someone’s head was the kind of thing Perry might occasionally do.

“I’m not here to talk to you anyways, White. Good morning, Cat Grant. My, you certainly grew up over the summer, didn’t you?” Dan said, letting his eyes roam leisurely down to her chest to make his meaning clear.

“I don’t resort to petty coffee-cup violence, Pendergast. Piss me off and they will never find your body,” Cat answered sweetly, trying to shove down the unexpected discomfort she felt under his gaze. He grinned at her and let the matter lie, helping himself to a truly disgusting amount of bacon.

Cat was glad when classes gave her the excuse to abandon their company. She walked into Defense Against the Dark Arts a few minutes early, dropped her bag at her usual table, and went to tap the ridiculously large shoulder blocking her view in the front row.

“Cat!” Clark grinned and pulled her into a hug, and for just a moment Cat remembered how much she’d missed him and hugged back. 

Just for a moment though. Then she smacked him. “Let go of me! What did they feed you all summer, you have arms like mighty oaks.”

“I’m a growing boy, I ate all my vegetables,” Clark proclaimed, and Cat couldn’t help but smile at him, just a little. Then she turned to the darkly glowering presence next to him.

“Nice summer, Lane?”

“Less vegetable-laden than his,” Lois allowed, but there was no lessening of the hostility in her gaze. “You’re braver than last year to come over and talk to us, aren’t you afraid we’ll rub off on you?”

“You Gryffindors are the brave ones - I’m meant to be cunning,” Cat pointed out, and tried to ignore the niggling bit of guilt, because Lois’ jab was completely correct. “For example, I can cunningly deduce that you tried charming your nose a bit smaller sometime this summer. You look like someone went at you with an axe.” 

Lois flushed a deep red and glanced at Clark, who was now studying her (definitely smaller) nose with an air of befuddlement. Then, to Cat’s surprise, she sighed and turned back around in her seat, getting out her quill and notebook for class. “Whatever, Cat. The number of reasons that your opinion doesn’t matter to me at this point is just…. uncountably vast. Thanks for coming by to say hello during the six seconds when you wouldn’t be seen by any Slytherin witnesses, I think your time is up.” 

Cat went back to her seat with an unshakeable sense of loss hammering unhappily against her chest. She hadn’t quite realized that her dynamic of petty jabs and one-upmanship with Lois was actually friendship until it was gone, replaced with a steady, quiet dislike that Cat wasn’t sure how to navigate or counteract. In contrast, her friendship with Leslie had become real over the summer in a way it wasn’t before. Leslie mattered. The snide remarks had become realer too though - there was a tension between them that not even Max could miss, their little cuts hitting home for each other more often than they quite meant them to. Cat wasn’t even doing it on purpose, exactly - it was just that she couldn’t escape the awkward knowledge that maybe Leslie had wanted more than just a kiss from her, and Leslie couldn’t escape the fact that Cat knew it, and they couldn’t find their way back around each other’s sharp edges.

Overall, it was a relief to escape for a few hours after the last class of the day, and Cat went straight from Arithmancy out to the lakeside, spreading out in her usual spot under the tree. She didn’t acknowledge the quiet hope skittering through her chest - she was only looking for a place to be alone and get her homework done before quidditch.

She looked up at the soft sound of feet padding over grass and saw Kara smiling at her, a little uncertain.

“Hello. Do you mind if - I mean, I can leave if you want?”

Cat rolled her eyes, and made a show of scooting over. “Sit, Danvers. I think it’s clear where I stand on your company.” Kara grinned and settled herself under the tree, pulling out parchment and putting it against a textbook on her knees. 

“How was your summer?” she asked, and Cat thought briefly about wine and frightened kisses in the moonlight, and said,

“I spent the entire time on my broom. Perry White is graduating this year - I’ve got my eye on the quidditch captaincy.”  Kara grinned.

“You’re all crazy - I hate brooms.” Cat stared at her.

“How can you hate flying!?” she demanded.

“Not the flying part of it,” Kara denied, holding up her hands in a mock response to Cat’s undoubtedly fierce expression, “that part’s great! The brooms though - it’s like they never do quite what I tell them. I don’t think they like me, Cat - I swear they’re all just  _ waiting  _ for the chance to buck me off.”

Cat kept staring at her, unmoving, until Kara started to shift nervously under her gaze. Then she put her arithmancy book back into her bag and stood. Kara was still for a moment, shocked, and then scrambled after her. “Cat, wait, you can’t seriously be mad about -”

“Mad? Who said anything about mad?” Cat answered airily. “Grab your things and come along, Kara. Chop chop.” 

Kara did as she was told, shoving her things back into her own bag and trotting along behind Cat’s brisk pace. “Where are we - “ she started to ask and then thought better of it. She figured it out on her own soon enough; Cat heard her groan as they approached the quidditch pitch, and suppressed a smile. “Cat, no…”

“It’s time someone taught you how to fly properly, Danvers. If those poor brooms are trying to buck you off it’s because you’re mistreating them.” Cat threw the broomshed open and grabbed her own broom out of Slytherin’s corner,  running a loving hand over it. Her mother, with no knowledge of brooms whatsoever, had simply bought her the most expensive one on the market, a Twigger 90 that had been thoroughly mocked by her teammates. Cat treasured it nonetheless. Alright, so it couldn’t reach the high speeds of a Nimbus or the later Cleansweep models, but it turned as tightly as any of them, and Cat didn’t need a better broom than this to own the quidditch pitch - she’d proven that a thousand times over.

Cat considered it for a moment, and then she grabbed a second broom, a Cleansweep 12 that had been Max’s Christmas present last year, a solid month before they had hit the public market.

“Here, you can borrow this one, Max won’t mind,” she told Kara, and then added, “well, he would, but he’s not going to find out. Don’t break it.”

“Cat, I really don’t know about this,” Kara said nervously, but she took the broom when Cat offered it to her, and Cat knew that meant that Kara was going to go along with her. She ignored the protests and led Kara outside.

“Let me see how you mount,” she demanded, and Kara threw a leg over the broom, posing like a muggle halloween decoration. “OK, let’s start there,” Cat said, and since she was doing this as some kind of favor or apology or  _ something  _ to Kara, she did her best to keep the mockery to a minimum as she readjusted Kara’s take-off angle. “You’re forcing it to take off straight up, brooms aren’t built for that - especially racing brooms. They’re charmed to be aerodynamic - if you hold it flat like that, those charms are working against you instead of for you.” Once she had Kara in position she backed off and mounted her own broom. “Alright, take off, but  _ not  _ straight up - go forward at an angle, and then pull around to face me once you’re about 3 feet up.”

Kara did as she was told, and Cat followed her up, staying low as Kara wobbled around, genuine surprise clear on her face. “Oh! That really did feel better.” 

Cat grinned. “OK, now move your hands up so that they’re here, and lean in close to the broom…” she demonstrated, and Kara followed suit, carefully copying her motions. “Good! Now follow me.” Cat took off down the pitch, and heard Kara’s startled shout from behind her.

The afternoon sunshine was bright and hot, and the air was heavy with moisture from last night’s rain. It smacked against Cat’s face in a warm wet burst as she sped up and she grinned, leaning into the pure joy of it, the absolute freedom of being airborne. Somewhere behind her she heard Kara’s laughter, a giddy infectious sound, and it filled her with warmth. She’d  _ known  _ Kara would love this. 

They looped twice around the quidditch pitch, and then Cat led them over to a small copse of trees, coming down to hover a few feet from the ground. Kara came down next to her, her hair a ridiculous mess over her face. She looked like she was made entirely of blonde hair and a grin.  “That was amazing!!!” she announced, and Cat couldn’t help but laugh.

“See? There you were blaming it on those innocent broomsticks you’ve been victimizing…” she teased. On a whim, she swung her leg over the side of her broom and flipped over so that she was hanging upside down from the broom by her knees. It was a childhood trick, perfected by the six year olds of the wizarding world - the real trick was navigating the broom gently with your knees so you didn’t find yourself spinning in uncontrolled circles or get tipped off. 

Kara giggled again. “Let me try that,” she said, and Cat remembered again that she’d been raised by muggles, that she might never have even tried this before.

“Kara wait,” she started, pulling herself upright, “it’s harder than it - OOF!“ She didn’t have time to finish the sentence, just darted forward and caught Kara in her lap as the girl tipped herself off her broom. Cat’s broom bucked under the unexpected weight, and she barely managed to get it back under control, bringing them to the ground in a gentle heap. 

“Um…. oops?” Kara offered, looking up at Cat with big blue eyes from her position in Cat’s lap. Cat looked down at her for a beat, and then let her head fall back against the trunk of the tree as laughter shook her body. It felt good, and she lost control of it for just a moment, letting it take her over as Kara did the same, burying her face in Cat’s shoulder as she dissolved into giggles.

It felt like being children. They _were_ children.

Cat got herself under control, but Kara still had her face against Cat’s shoulder. Her body was shaking, and after a moment Cat realized that the quality of it had changed, that her shoulder was getting wet.

“Kara…” she murmured, and laced her fingers into Kara’s hair, gently rearranging it so that it wasn’t such a windswept mess. They were too big for this; despite the year and a half age difference, Kara was as tall as Cat and didn’t really fit into her lap. She was painfully heavy, and the sobs she was letting out into Cat’s neck weren’t a child’s tears. Kara wasn’t making any noise, containing herself in a way that no child could. Still, Cat did her best, playing with Kara’s hair because she didn’t know what else to do.

Eventually it ceased and Kara rolled herself to the side, out of Cat’s personal space, and sat.

“Rough summer?” Cat inquired, trying to keep her voice neutral. She didn’t know how to be comforting - she knew that if it was her, the last thing she’d want to hear from anybody was pity. But maybe Kara wasn’t like her - maybe she wanted someone who could give her sympathy, and who knew how to hug her when she cried. Cat wondered if she should offer to go get Clark.

“Yeah, it kind of sucked,” Kara agreed with a little laugh, and if Cat’s brand of comfort wasn’t working for her, she didn’t say so. “There’s, um - there are these people who are trying to kill me? They’re called the Order of Rozz.” 

It sounded familiar. Cat didn’t remember specifically hearing it before, but she didn’t need to remember to know that it was a name that had been dropping between her mother’s friends at a thousand dinner parties. There weren’t  _ two _ crazy groups of people trying to murder the same 12 year old - that would be a bit much, even for pureblood politics. 

“Good thing it takes more than a little train explosion to stop you,” Cat said, and Kara gave her a wet smile. 

“Yeah. That’s all it takes to get me taken away from my foster family and put into hiding though,” she said, her mouth twisting as she struggled to keep her voice from wobbling. “I miss my sister. I missed her all last year, but I thought - at least I’ll get to spend the summer with her, you know?”

“Write her a letter,” Cat suggested gently. “Tell her you’re getting better at flying - tell her you can’t wait to take her up on a broom next time you go home.”

“Thank you, Cat.” Kara looked at her with solemn, shadowed eyes. “I’m - I’m really glad to have you back this year.”

“Me too,” Cat admitted. She wasn’t sure whether Kara could hear how sincerely she meant it; wasn’t even sure whether she wanted her to. 

She pulled her arithmancy homework back out. They sat together, their quills scratching against parchment as the only sound to break the silence, until Cat saw the Slytherin quidditch team begin to gather on the pitch.

Kara Danvers was being threatened, and Dave Wilkers had disappeared. Cat got up and went to go help her team replace him.

**

Cat mentioned Dave in her first letter home to her mother, but she didn’t have high hopes about getting a response. Katherine never wrote back, and she never told Cat anything beyond what she expected Cat to do. There was no reason to think anything would change now. 

Anyways, it wasn’t as though Dave was the only disappearance. One evening she found Tara Creed in tears in the Slytherin common room, and found out that her uncle had gone missing. A Gryffindor 5th year named Susan Vazquez got a muggle newspaper delivered, and she was telling anyone who would listen that a slew of mysterious muggle deaths in London had to be the work of dark magic. 

Two weeks into the term, Cat settled herself at the Slytherin breakfast table between Max and Leslie, and was honestly shocked when Carter landed in front of her with a letter tied to his leg.

“Hello darling,” she cooed, and offered him a bit of bacon while Max scoffed.

“You spoil that owl,” he said. “He’s going to end up too fat to deliver letters.”

“He  _ is  _ cute,” Leslie said, and reached out to tickle Carter’s belly. He pecked her fingers,  _ hard _ , and she pulled back with an outraged curse.

“Spoiled and violent,” Max muttered. “Definitely your familiar, Cat.” 

“Well, I’m not really spoiled,” Cat said, and kicked him serenely under the table. “I guess I can’t argue much about the other part.”

She untied the letter from around Carter’s leg, a task that was made harder by his affectionate nibbling at her fingers. “Yes, alright sweetheart, I missed you too,” she told him, and managed to get the letter free even while preparing to give Max another kick for whatever he was about to say.

Her mother’s seal was on the front, a delicate curving symbol pressed neatly into silver wax. She tucked it into her bag without opening it and turned back to her toast.

Later, once she’d excused herself, she found a quiet alcove and pulled it back out, unfolding it to read in private.

_ Kitty, _

_ It does you credit that you’ve formed connections within your house, but now is not the time for tactless questions - I do hope that you’ve limited your curiosity to your letters home, and haven’t been running around nosing into things that aren’t your business. Here is my advice to you: being sorted into Slytherin house is not proof, in and of itself, of a person’s worth, or of the worth of their family. You may rest assured that the right kind of people are safe and protected. My expectation of you is that you will continue to associate with those who are worth your time, and that you will cut all other connections from your life. _

_ In the past you have been wont to ignore my bidding and do as you please, Kitty, and damn the consequences. You have outgrown this. The world has outgrown any space to tolerate it. I expect you to do as you are told. _

_ -Katherine _

Cat read the letter twice, and let the coldness of it wash over her. Was it empty posturing, or did Katherine know  _ exactly  _ what had happened to Dave Welker? It was hard to say - after all, Katherine had made it her life’s work to cloak herself in an illusion of wealth and importance, until it was so well believed that the line between illusion and reality blurred.

It was very possible that, whatever the Order of Rozz was trying to accomplish, Katherine was right there in the thick of it. 

She had to go to class or she’d be late. Cat stuffed the letter into the bottom of her bag and took a few deep breaths. She forced a kind of vicious calm to settle over herself, as she went to sit down next to the  _ right  _ sort of people.

The semester continued, and Cat began to perfect her balancing act. Quidditch practices were frequent and fierce - Perry White was determined that they would win the cup this year, and he saw no reason why they shouldn’t resort to underhanded tactics. It took Leslie and Cat a combined 40 minutes to talk him down from hexing Hufflepuff’s brooms before their first match.

“It’s not cunning if it gets you caught,” Leslie said for the 18th time, sitting on the arm of a leather couch in the Slytherin common room. Cat rolled her eyes and added, “for heaven’s sake White - if we’ve got to resort to hexing  _ Hufflepuff _ to win we might as well throw in the towel now.” 

A girl named Rachel Berkowicz heard her and laughed. Cat was beginning to feel like a permanent fixture of the Slytherin common room. She wasn’t allowing herself the kind of alone time she’d always taken in her first few years at Hogwarts - that had been a luxury. There wasn’t room for it in the new balance. Just being there everyday created a familiarity, a rapport - her position among these people no longer felt so tenuous.

The curves she’d grown over the summer helped. She didn’t like them - wasn’t entirely comfortable with them yet. But she was learning how to wield them; learning that the appreciative way boys’ eyes lingered on her was a kind of power that she could take advantage of, if she took the right tone with them.

She rarely spent time with Clark anymore, though they exchanged easy smiles in class and in the hallways. The comfort of those moments was moderated by Lois’ stony dislike, which hadn’t eased as the year went on.

The highlight of Cat’s day was the precious hour after dinner in which she allowed herself to slip down to the lakeside and do her homework. It was an evening routine - she conjured a blanket and settled down with her work, and within moments, she’d hear the quiet sound of Kara joining her, usually with a thermos of coffee and some kind of snack. Hufflepuff house was by the kitchens; the house elves  _ loved  _ Kara.

“They’re funny,” Kara explained to her. “Clark told me how to get into the kitchens, because I’m hungry all the time, you know? And they’re always so excited to feed me - do you know, they can make all sorts of things that Astra won’t let them serve at dinner because she wants us to have a healthy diet.” 

“What do you want to do after hogwarts?” Cat asked, and when Kara blinked at the apparent non-sequitur, she added, “I don’t know how you’re going to afford to feed yourself, when you don’t have an entire castle’s budget for it. You’d better aim for something well paid - mediwizard, maybe.”

“I couldn’t do that,” Kara said with a little shudder. “The sight of blood makes me faint.”

Kara did eat an  _ excessive  _ amount. Cat brought her back sweets every time she went into Hogsmeade, little wizarding oddities that Kara, in her muggle upbringing, might not have seen before, and watched with astounded eyes as Kara  _ devoured _ them.

Kara also almost never did homework. She was, Cat eventually realized, a genuinely terrible student. While Cat worked, Kara ate sweets and wrote letters to her sister, or she doodled - talented little sketches that she could animate with her wand so that they ran cleverly across the page. It was  _ advanced  _ magic, bringing something into motion like that, and Kara did it thoughtlessly, didn’t even need to say a spell, could just shove her intentions into her wand and make things happen. Ask her to name the herbal base of a sleeping potion, though, and she would just stare at you blankly. 

“If I had to be your teacher, I would murder you in about 3 days,” Cat told her conversationally, and Kara just grinned. 

The weather got colder, until the lakeside was the last place any of Hogwarts’ students wanted to be, but unless it was actually raining, Cat and Kara kept meeting there. Cat figured out how to put a warming spell on the blanket, heat that radiated out of it and kept the hard November chill at bay. Kara had this knack for prodding the coffee thermos with her wand and getting it back to just exactly the right temperature.

Kara seemed more melancholy, and as they hit the middle of December, Cat finally took a break from studying for mid-year  exams to ask the question that had been weighing on the air between them for weeks. “Will you be allowed to go home for break, or are you staying at the castle?”

**“** Neither,” Kara answered, a wealth of misery in her voice. “They’re sending me back to where I was over the summer. I’m going to get more training.”

Cat’s curiosity perked. More training? Kara had never mentioned a first set of training. “On what?” she asked, and Kara flushed.

“Nothing…. stupid stuff,” she muttered. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not allowed to, I don’t think.”

With anyone else, Cat would have pressed, and she probably would have gotten  them to tell her. It was, she was slowly realizing, a talent of hers - she was learning how to make connections, how to make people trust her, just the way her mother had always tried to teach her to do. 

She wouldn’t press Kara, though. All these people - Leslie and Max and Perry, and shy little Tara Creed and lecherous Dan Pendergast and laughing Rachel Berkowicz - they were  _ real  _ people. Connection went both ways, and Cat had let them in, and some of them might grow up to be involved in horrible things, some of them might already be involved, and despite everything Cat  _ loved her mother. _

It was a hard line to walk. Kara’s smile and warmth felt like a light, leading her in the right direction. It made Cat feel safer inside herself, like she could trust herself to pick the right side in whatever was coming, because she knew with some deep inner certainty that the right side would be wherever Kara was. 

Kara was her savior, and Cat didn’t push her to give up her secrets. She only said, “well I hope someone finds the time in there to give you a Christmas feast - that’ll be a change from the amount you normally eat.”

Kara smiled. “They might let my foster family visit me, for a bit - if they can make it safe.” She tried to say it casually, and even added on an, “it probably won’t happen,” but it was clear that she had her hopes up.

Cat didn’t believe in hope, but she nudged Kara a little with her shoulder and said, “I’m sure they’ll find a way. How hard can it be to get a couple muggles in? It’s not like they’re what you’re warded against.”

***

The train left Hogwarts on the 22nd, releasing them for two long weeks of freedom. Cat lingered in the Slytherin dorms, ostensibly looking for a missing textbook, until she was almost late. 

“Hurry up, then,” the station guard told her crossly as she clambered onboard with her trunk, and she smiled as the doors shut behind her. It was a calculated move - as the last person on the train, nobody would know what compartment she sat in. Max and Leslie would assume she was with the crowd of older students she'd been flirting with in the common room. 

She went off in search of Clark and Lois. It was her final Christmas gift to herself.

The first few cars she surreptitiously peeked into were first years, hufflepuffs and ravenclaws excited about the holidays. She got lucky on the 4th compartment, immediately recognizing the back of Clark’s head. It helped that he had such a stupid haircut.

He was kissing Lois.

She stood staring for just a moment, utterly shocked.  _ Never should have left them alone together _ , she thought, and then wondered why she was thinking it. What did she care if Clark and Lois were making out in a train car? It didn't affect her in the slightest.

She kept moving until she found a compartment of Slytherins she knew a little further down, hefting her trunk in and taking one of the remaining seats.

“Did you find your book?” Perry asked her, and she stopped herself from snarling at him.

When the train pulled into the station, no one was waiting for Cat. She looked for Jane, assuming at first that she was merely overlooking her in the crowd. As the mass of people started to thin, it became clear that Jane wasn't there. Cat clung to her case and felt uncomfortable - why wasn't she more prepared to handle things like this on her own?

She was just unlocking her trunk to see if she had any floo powder, though she wasn't sure where she expected to find a fireplace in King’s Cross Station, when there was a light pop, and she looked up to see that her mother had arrived.

“Welcome home, Kitty,” she said stiffly, and Cat stared.

Katherine had lost weight. There were bags under her eyes, expertly concealed with makeup and glamour charms, but there was no getting around the fact that she looked  _ haggard _ .

“Thank you, Mother,” Cat finally said, remembering herself. “Uh, shall we…” she held her arm out awkwardly, and tried to remember the last time she and her mother had actually touched.

Katherine took her arm impatiently and whisked her into side-along apparition. It was clear that she was less practiced in it than Jane - they landed in the foyer hard and Cat stumbled, banging her knee against her trunk hard enough to bruise. 

“Oh for goodness sake, Kitty,” Katherine snapped as Cat straightened, and she muttered an apology. “Yes, well - why don't you put your things away and then come down to supper.”

Cat escaped with relief. Carter was waiting for her in her bedroom, and she smiled with genuine delight to see him, holding her fingers out for him to nibble. 

“Welcome home,” she told him a little sarcastically, and sighed. It was only two weeks. She unpacked the essentials, straightened her hair and robes, and made her way down to the dining room.

Her mother was already there waiting, and when Cat entered the room she began to serve herself from steaming plates of salmon, Brussels sprouts, and potato. Had she made it herself? That seemed implausible.

“Where is Jane, Mother?” she enquired, following Katherine’s lead and serving herself a plate. “Not ill, I hope.”

“I sent her home early,” Katherine snapped, “and I'll thank you not to take that tone. I am perfectly capable of moving food from a serving dish to a plate without assistance.” Cat wisely didn't respond, and after a moment Katherine added, “I wished to speak to you privately. Jane has developed a rather nasty habit over the years of listening in on conversation over the dinner table.”

It was a habit almost definitely borne of self-preservation; Katherine would have thrown a fit if Jane hadn't noticed the instant her glass needed refilling, among any number of other minor tasks. Cat didn't comment on that either though, just said, “what did you want to talk to me about, Mother?” in her most reasonable tone and took a bite of salmon. It paled in comparison to Hogwarts cooking; Kara would have been outraged. Cat hoped that wherever she was, they were feeding her properly.

“We have been invited to Lord Manor for Christmas dinner this year,” Katherine began, and Cat looked up, mildly surprised. The Lords’ Christmas party was an exclusive, intimate affair of the most elite families; the Grants had never been invited before.

“How flattering that the Lords consider us such close friends,” she said, and Katherine pursed her lips. It was a longstanding point of contention for her that they hadn't been included on that guest list.

“It would be if Governor Lord had been the one to invite us,” she responded icily. “As it happens, he has merely offered up his manor to host the engagement. It is primarily in honor of a gentleman named Lord Non.”

“ _ Lord _ Non?” Cat repeated sharply, staring at her mother. That couldn't be his official rank - she knew the name of every lord in the wizarding world. Her stomach curled in dread, threatening for a brief moment to expel what she'd eaten of her dinner. 

“It is a very great honor that we have been invited - one that I have worked  _ extremely  _ hard to gain for us. It is also…. not without its element of risk.” Katherine paused as though waiting for a reaction to this pronouncement. When Cat was silent, she continued, “Lord Non has extreme political ideals. He has gained a following rapidly, and will soon be in a position to see to it that his supporters are well rewarded. He has made himself someone who speaks for us, and the people who matter are standing behind him. But he has not yet been elected to any official position, and there are certainly those who would like to oppose the order Lord Non looks to restore. An element of discretion is called for at this time. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“I do,” Cat answered flatly, and Katherine nodded.

“I will tell you that not everyone is bringing their  _ children _ to this event. But as I have no husband to present, I must rely upon you Kitty. Do not let me down.”

Cat spent the next few days in a haze. She got her homework done. She thought about sending a message to Astra, or to the minister of magic, or to Clark. To say what exactly? She could only wait and see what happened.

Instead of any of that, she sent Carter out with an order form. At least one thing could go right over the holiday break.

By Christmas Day, a sense of preternatural calm had slipped over her. She had attended a thousand and one different pureblood parties over time, dressed in her mother’s choice of bait, making nice over tea and canapés. This would be no different. She would go see the man who had tried to murder her friend, and she would smirk at the other Slytherins her age while they judged each other’s dress robes, and nothing would happen.

Katherine, for her part, did not seem able to achieve any equal sense of calm. She sent Cat to change four times over the course of the afternoon, and ultimately altered a set of Cat’s dress robes herself before casting a few glamour charms over her face with ruthless efficiency. Cat, looking at herself in the mirror, was struck anew with a kind of displacement from her own body. Was that really her? She looked like an adult, all curves and come hither glances. 

They portkeyed to Lord Manor at 5:00 on the dot. When the familiar hook-like jerk let them out into the pathway, another family was already there, stumbling to their feet.

“Why Aradia, you look lovely,” Katherine said, and from behind her mother Leslie gave Cat a bold wink, falling into step with her behind the adults as they exchanged courtesies.

“Merlin this threatens to be boring,” she muttered, and Cat was so grateful she could have kissed Leslie all over again.

“Nothing like politics to bring Yuletide joy,” she agreed, and they stood a little straighter together, bold in the face of every challenge.

There was no escape this time, no excited childhood runaround to the balcony. Governor Lord greeted them stiffly at the door and Cat and Leslie parted ways to their separate assigned places at a large oval table in the dining room. 

Katherine hadn't been lying about a lack of children, Cat noted. She could see the Whites in attendance without Perry, and the Bercowiczes and the Pendergasts. There was no sign of Max either, and Cat wondered uneasily why the Lords wouldn’t have let him attend a dinner party in their own home.

That was when she noticed.

The ceiling in the dining room was high. Several feet below it was an elaborate chandelier, enchanted to hover as the centerpiece of the room. Magically spun crystals were woven together in a delicate arrangement that sent light shimmering into incredible geometric patterns across the walls. It was undoubtedly goblin made, probably the most expensive item in the house, and last summer Cat and Leslie had snidely joked about whether there was fishing line anchoring it to the ceiling in case the hover charm ever failed. 

Cat could now clearly see that there wasn’t. Directly above the chandelier, an unconscious teenage girl was floating, her arms chained painfully behind her back. Her head dangled grotesquely, with nothing supporting her neck, and for a moment Cat thought she must be dead, but no - there were silent tears tracking down her face, her chest moving up and down at a rapid pace, and Cat revised her initial assessment. The girl was alive and she was conscious, though too exhausted to even try to hold her head up. Her brown hair hung loosely across her face and down, matted in places with the blood that was crusted below her nose.

Cat felt her stomach start to rebel and she looked down quickly, staring down at the place setting in front of her - elaborate china dishes and crystal goblets. 

“Get yourself under control,” her mother hissed quietly from beside her, but glancing to the side, Cat could see that Katherine was thrown as well. She was stiff in her chair, and Cat took a moment of scant comfort in the thought that at least her mother hadn’t expected this; that maybe if Katherine had known, she would have left Cat home.

Most of the other guests had shuffled into seats, but the room was almost silent - there was no buzz of quiet conversation, no music. Underneath this gilded room, underneath the elaborate dress robes, they were on a battlefield, and they knew it - knew that death was in the room with them. Cat didn’t know the girl hanging from the ceiling, didn’t know who she was, but she knew it was too late for her. Cat could only look down at her plate and pray that it wasn’t too late for her too. 

The terrible silence was broken by Governor Lord entering the room and clearing his throat.

“Welcome everybody, and happy Christmas. Allow me to introduce our guest of honor this evening, my Lord Non.”

From behind him, a man stepped forward. For a moment, Cat didn’t even realize that this was the great man in question - his robes were cheap and functional, compared to the expensive insanity of the rest of the room. His hair was gray and receding, and his nose looked as though it had been broken at least once. His eyes were disarmingly gentle, in contrast to the flat set of his mouth. Governor Lord sat down quietly next to his wife, and Non stepped forward to the head of the table.

“It’s very quiet in here, for a party,” he said, and his lips curved into a light smile. There were a few tentative breaths of polite laughter. “No doubt you have all noticed our additional guest, and you are discomfited by my idea of haute decor. Allow me to introduce you. This,” he gestured up with his wand, and the girl’s body jolted through the air as though it had been struck, “is Alex Danvers.”

The world went white for a moment as Cat reeled. Was her breathing too loud, too harsh? She glanced sharply around to see if she had drawn undue attention to herself, but nobody was looking at her - they were looking to Non, puzzled, unsure how to react. They didn’t know who Alex Danvers was.

“Allow me to explain,” he continued smoothly. “Fifteen years ago, a woman named Alura Zor El came into power and began, systematically, to dismantle our world. She used her authority to destroy tradition, to steal power away from those to whom it rightfully belonged.” He nodded at a couple sitting to his left, as he said this - the Blackwoods, Garrett’s parents. His uncle had lost his seat on the wizengamot for possession of dark artifacts, Cat remembered suddenly. It was why her mother had never encouraged a friendship. “Under the guise of equal opportunity for all, she was setting herself up as dictator, and a group of us stepped in to stop her. We were known as the Order of Rozz. It was those of us who were unwilling to stand by and watch our world to crumble in the name of ‘fairness’, who were unready to see our traditions and our culture die.” 

His voice had gone hard with passion as he spoke. When Cat glanced to her side, she saw that Katherine was spellbound, drinking his words in.

“We succeeded in dethroning Alura Zor El, but her legacy lived on. She had put too many people into power, there were too many willing to continue her work, and the wizarding world has happily continued along the path to destruction that she laid out for us,” he said, and there was a murmur of bitter agreement from the table.

It struck Cat, then, how much anger there was buried in the wealth and power around her. She’d grown up with Katherine’s bitterness, with a sense of family wealth and power that was tentative and illusory. How had she not recognized that same proud illusion on every other face here? These were the the dying embers of a corrupt upper class, scrambling to grab onto Non because he offered them one last assurance that they were more powerful than just tea parties.

They were pathetic. And Kara Danvers’ sister was going to die for them.

“Alura’s followers have buoyed themselves up with rumors of a prophecy. The Zor Els, you will recall, had a daughter, and there are those who believe that that child is destined to rule in her mother’s place. Tonight we will reveal the renewal of the Order of Rozz while simultaneously striking our opponents with a fatal blow. After the Zor Els were taken down, their daughter Kara was put into hiding with a muggle family - the Danvers.  _ This _ is the child’s foster sister, and I am assured by those who know her best that Kara Zor El will come for her.”

It felt like a nightmare. Cat took deep breaths, but the air wasn't settling right in her lungs, she was suffocating in her chair. Didn't she usually breathe without thinking about it? If she could just  _ stop _ thinking about it now, maybe her body would be able to find air..

This was a panic attack, she distantly realized. But it didn't need to be, because there was no  _ way  _ Kara would do anything as stupid as try to singlehandedly rescue her sister from the people who were trying to kill her. She would get adult help, she would talk to these mysterious people who were  _ training  _ her…

“I guess they told you right.” The voice rang out, and almost against her will, Cat looked to the entryway.

Kara stood, trembling. She was wearing muggle jeans and a sweater, her wand held aloft in her hand. She looked twelve. She still had baby fat in her cheeks. It was the stupidest thing Cat had ever seen in her life, this tiny child standing bravely before a dark lord, and she was going to die. Kara was going to die and there was nothing Cat could do but sit and watch it happen.

Non must have been thinking along similar lines; he laughed, and several of the adults sitting around him laughed as well. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said courteously, “Kara Zor El.” And then he raised his wand. “Avada Kedavra.”

**

Cat closed her eyes, but the green light still flashed behind her eyelids. Her ears strained for the gruesome sound of her friend’s body hitting the floor.

Instead she heard startled shouts. She braved herself to look; Kara was hovering in midair, her form and Non’s blurred by speed as they traded spells across the room. A missed shot hit the goblet across from Cat, sending shards flying - one of them cut her cheek. A moment later a sharp hand grabbed her shoulder, and Katherine shoved her under the table.

“Stay down,” she hissed, and for once Cat did as she was told. She had her wand - she could rise up, she could try to hit Non while Kara was distracting him, she could help. She didn't. In the end, it would be a useless gesture - she would die and it wouldn’t accomplish anything, and although she hated herself for it, she couldn't see the point. If she died, she was at least going to accomplish something with it. She stayed under the table.

She could still catch glimpses of the battle that had broken out around her. The magic Kara was doing was nothing they were learning in school - nothing Cat had seen before. Cat watched her fly around a column, the edges of her form blurred, and remembered a childish voice by the lake - “flying’s great! It's the brooms I hate.”

She shuddered. A moment later, she saw a red streak of light hit, heard Kara cry out, saw blood. 

Non’s disarmingly kind face was gone, replaced by ugly rage as he snarled and aimed his wand. Kara aimed hers at the same time, her face grim and tensed with pain, and the streams of their magic crossed. For a tense moment it was unclear what would happen; then Non screamed, dropping his wand as though it was hot. In an instant, Kara grabbed her sister and was gone. 

There was silence in the aftermath; shakily, Cat climbed out from under the table. She wasn't the only one who had taken cover. Other witches and wizards were rising to their feet. The hall was shattered - a marble pillar was in pieces on the ground, the ceiling above it sagging alarmingly. At the center of the disaster zone, she saw Non stoop to pick up his wand. The expression on his face was pensive, but calm - he looked like someone’s kindly uncle. Governor Lord reached out to him in an aborted gesture of support.

“My lord -” he started, and Non smiled pleasantly at him, and pointed his wand.

“Crucio.” Lord’s shrill screams filled the hall, oddly high pitched for such a large man, and his body convulsed as he fell to the floor. “Crucio! Crucio!”

Non was aiming his wand almost randomly, and his followers fell beneath it. Cat felt frozen, staring at this strange smiling man her mother had chosen to follow, and when his wand pointed in her direction she realized, with a fatalistic kind of calm, what was about to happen. Like everything else that had happened that night, knowing it was coming didn't mean she could stop it. 

“Crucio!” The pain hit her, white and searing, ripping a scream from her throat. It was like being torn apart, agony down to the last cell so that she silently pleaded with the world for her own death or anything else that would end it, while it just went on and on and on. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to spaceshipsarecool, zennie, and bugzadc for edits, you are all heroes!!!

Cat didn’t see anyone for the rest of the break. If there was the usual circuit of holiday parties, Katherine mercifully attended them without her. Cat lay on her soft bed and inhaled the smell of the sheets and tried not to fall apart. 

After a few days, it was easier. She was starting to realize that she was not an easily broken person. 

When she arrived at the train platform, ready to head back to Hogwarts as though her entire world hadn’t just been irrevocably cracked, she and Leslie sought each other out without needing to say anything about it. They found Max and Perry, and sat together almost in silence, using books and magazines as an excuse not to talk. “How was your Christmas?” seemed like such a stupid question under the circumstances.

Cat glanced around, wondering which of them actually bought into Non’s murder cult ideology. She was almost certain that Perry did, but Max and Leslie might be like her - children trapped by the choices of their parents.

Then again, they might not be. Max caught her eye and grinned, just a little, and pulled a small wizarding radio out of his pocket, tuning it until a group that had been popular over the summer started to play tinnily through the speakers. The lyrics bounced against the rattling walls of the train car, while the cold seeped through the window to fight against the magical heat of the compartment. It felt sickening to think of smiling and dancing; Cat settled instead for rolling her eyes and leaning back against her seat, grateful that cynicism was an easier mask to put on than sincerity. 

She didn't know if Kara would be back at school. It wasn’t Cat’s business anymore anyways, she supposed. Cat would have sat there and watched Alex Danvers die. Not even Kara would be able to forgive her for that. 

Somehow they all muddled through the train ride. There were bees humming under Cat’s skin, and she barely waited until they’d all made it back to the common room after dinner before she made her excuses. She grabbed a slender package out of her trunk and exited the common room, heading toward the kitchens with the intention of seeking out Kara, even if she had to break into the Hufflepuff common room to do it. 

Instead, she found her about six feet outside the Slytherin entryway.

“Oh! Cat!” Kara smiled at her, and Cat studied her carefully. She didn’t look hurt, although there were dark, tired circles under her eyes. She also didn’t look angry. As Cat continued staring at her, she started to look a little confused. “I was looking for you, I just wanted to say welcome back…”

Kara didn’t know she had been there, Cat realized. She hadn’t seen her cowering under the table. 

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” she suggested, and Kara smiled at her. By unspoken agreement they made their way outside, walking over to the lakeside.

“How was your break?” Cat asked, a little warily, but Kara only smiled — she didn't mention her sister, or the bruises Cat had watched blossom on her skin, or the strange and terrifying fearlessness that had taken over her face as she used magic that no one their age could know.

“It was nice - I turned 13,” she said instead.

“I know,” Cat answered, and thrust the package she was holding into Kara’s hand. “Happy birthday.”

It was fairly obvious from the shape what it was, but that didn't stop Kara from examining the innocuous brown paper with startled interest before she ripped it open.

Cat had gone with an older cleansweep model — a reliable one that had a reputation for sturdiness. Of course, she'd picked it out before she found out that Kara could  _ fly. _

“Cat,  _ thank you _ ,” Kara said, her eyes shining as she ran her fingers gently over the bristles. “I love it.”

Cat couldn't ask Kara why she was keeping secrets from her. She couldn't ask if Alex Danvers was alright, if she even remembered what had happened to her. She couldn’t ask about Kara’s strange powers.

She couldn't bear to, because asking about any of it would mean admitting to Kara that she had been there and that she had done nothing. 

Instead she put on her snottiest voice and said, “I couldn't ship it to you wherever they locked you away in hiding,” like it was a personal affront that she'd been forced to carry an extra broomstick. 

Kara seemed to understand what Cat meant. She shifted the broomstick into her other hand and curled her arm through Cat’s, pulling them close together as they walked.

“Can we go try it out?” she asked, and Cat snorted.

“You're not even wearing a cloak, you moron. We’re putting it in the broomshed and we’re going inside.”

She didn’t mean it.

They stayed out shivering in the cold night air, muffling their laughter to avoid being caught as Cat taught Kara childhood broomstick acrobatics. It was freezing, but still warmer than being alone in her bed with the dreams Cat couldn't seem to shake — of pain, of tortured children and bruises blossoming on skin, of being paralyzed and helpless.

She thought maybe dreams were haunting Kara too. Kara seemed no more eager to go inside than Cat was. They snuck back into the castle sometime after midnight, and Kara turned to her with shining eyes.

“Thanks for this, Cat. I don't know how you always see exactly what I need, but — thank you.”

“I'm very skilled at divination,” Cat said loftily, which was an absolute lie, and then she stopped resisting and let herself run a gentle hand along Kara’s cheek.

Kara’s skin was soft under her hand, warm despite the frigid night air, and Kara’s eyes fluttered shut as she let Cat touch her.

How had this strange, sweet girl become so important? Logically, Cat never should have even met her. But she'd wandered into Cat’s train compartment a year and a half ago, and she just kept coming back, all smiles and sugar and sincerity. 

Someone was trying to kill her, and maybe it was sheer selfishness, maybe Cat only felt so protective because she didn't want to imagine her life without Kara in it, but Cat was  _ not  _ going to sit by and let it happen.

“Goodnight, Kara,” she said, and if Kara’s eyes were large and confused in the wake of Cat’s touch, she still looked pleased by the affection.

That was one problem fixed. The next day Cat went down to breakfast ready to solve another. Or she did if lingering surreptitiously outside the Gryffindor common room counted as going to breakfast. 

She timed it well, showing up about 15 minutes before even the laziest Gryffindors would have to exit the common room or risk being late to class. Looking around surreptitiously, she turned her bag upside down in the hallway. When a group of Gryffindor 7th years piled out of the portrait hole, she gave a muttered curse and began gathering her spilled things back up from the flagstones, taking her sweet time.

The gambit paid off after a few minutes. Just as she was jumping her spilled ink off the floor and back into its container with her wand, Lois came around the corner, her hair still tousled from sleep. She never rolled out of bed until the last possible moment, Cat knew.

“Lane,” she drawled, sweeping the last of her items into her bag and standing as gracefully as she could manage. Lois started; she obviously hadn’t even noticed Cat on the floor. Her sleepy face transformed into a sneer.

“What the hell are you doing on your knees in the hallway, Grant?”

Cat wasn’t spoiling for a fight, but something about the way Lois said it implied real insult, and she bristled.

“Don’t worry, darling, I know who belongs on their knees in Gryffindor House,” she answered sharply, and when Lois just rolled her eyes and made to walk away, she added, “Wait!” and then even more reluctantly, “I need to talk to you.”

“If I haven’t made it very clear already, I’m not interested in apologies,” Lois said and continued walking. Cat fell into step next to her.

“Believe me, I’m not offering one. It’s about Kara.”

“You certainly owe her one too,” Lois said, and walked faster.

“I’m serious, Lane, this is important! It’s private, can you just —” she grabbed Lois’ arm and yanked her into a nearby side-hall, ignoring her exclamation of outrage. Glancing around for listeners, students or otherwise, Cat lowered her voice. “Do you know what happened over winter break?” 

Lois just stared at her silently for a moment. Cat waited her out — she’d known Lois for years, she knew there was no better tool than curiosity to catch Lois’ attention. “I know Kara was in hiding,” Lois finally admitted, and Cat knew that she’d caught her. Lois hesitated for a moment more and then added, “My dad was really mad about something — I think she left when she wasn’t allowed to?”

“She had good reason,” Cat said grimly, and filled Lois in on what had happened in Lord Manor. She left out a few unimportant details. Lois didn’t need to know that Cat had been tortured — that was private, and Cat kept it buried jealously away where only she and her nightmares could see it. 

When she finished her story, they were impossibly late for first period, and Lois was silent for a long time.

“I’ve heard the name Order of Rozz before,” she said finally. “The ministry is freaking out about them, but they can’t pin them down — they have no idea who’s leading them. I have to tell my dad what you just told me.”   
  
“Not about Kara!” Cat interrupted sharply. “Tell him about Non, for all the good it will do — your dad’s not about to go after any of the rich families who were there.”

“I know,” Lois admitted, her voice heavy. Auror Lane was very well known for toadying to his rich supporters. It was undeniably how he’d become head of the department. “Kara just… flew? How?”

Cat ignored that question as useless, since she didn’t have any kind of answer for it. “Non said that people who knew Kara told him that taking her sister was the best way to draw her out of hiding. And someone must have  _ told  _ her Alex was missing, told her how to find her…”

“You think someone sold her out. There’s a spy,” Lois said, understanding.

“I know who was at Non’s party. I know who has been at every damn tea party that fronted all their stupid crazy beliefs. And 90 percent of the unsanctioned auror work that goes on is happening in your living room. We’ve both got half the story, Lane.”

“So we’re working together to form a whole picture, is that it?” Lois said. “Why, Cat? I didn’t know you cared.”

“Someone has to protect Kara,” Cat said. Lois didn’t argue, just looked at her thoughtfully. 

“We can’t just skip class to have secret hallway conversations,” she said. “I think I know somewhere we can go. Meet me tonight after curfew on the 7th floor — do you know that tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy?” 

“There aren’t even any classrooms around there,” Cat pointed out, and Lois rolled her eyes.

“Unsurprisingly, Grant, I know a little more than you do. Meet me there.”

**

It was apparently a day for eventful hallway encounters. Cat gave up on the idea of first period altogether and made her way slowly toward charms. She was only a few corridors away when she heard scuffling. Around the corner, two sixth-year Slytherin boys had Tara Creed backed against the wall, looking frightened.

Cat had never talked to either of them before, though she recognized one of them as the Morgans’ eldest son. His parents had been present at the Christmas party, though he hadn’t been. 

“Why don’t you head back to Hufflepuff with all the other chubby little nothings in this school?” the other boy was sneering, and Cat stepped in.

“Why don’t you pretend to have any sense of house loyalty, you worthless overprivileged scumbag?”

Both boys jumped, caught, and then visibly relaxed when they saw her.

“Grant,” Morgan drawled at her. “We’ve got a little sneak here, running around listening in on conversations that  _ aren’t  _ for her ears.” He gave her a significant look, laden with self-importance, and Cat realized with a little twist in her stomach what he must have been talking about — that he might even have been recruiting the boy whose name she doesn’t know.

“Well aren’t you the height of cunning, running your mouth in the middle of a school hallway,” she answered coolly. “Maybe instead of beating up on Creed,  _ you  _ should step up and learn how to keep your mouth shut. I wonder how it would reflect on you, if it became known that you were spouting secrets where others could hear….”

The implied threat came through clearly, and Morgan paled. Cat remembered the shock of the cruciatus as it hit her, and didn’t blame him. It was clear that Non drew no lines, would do the same and worse to anybody he wanted, friend or foe. She relented. “Relax, no one will hear it from me — and they won’t hear it from Creed, either, if you’d stop half a second and remember that she’s a member of your house. Slytherins stick together.”

“Yeah, we do,” Morgan muttered. “Thanks, Grant…. Sorry, Creed,” he added, and slunk off, his friend following after him. 

“Uh…. thanks,” Tara said, and there was no denying that the expression on her face was something uncomfortably close to worship.

Cat was a little tempted to smack the kid around herself for it. She was a  Slytherin — what was she doing letting herself get caught eavesdropping and then going all grateful to be rescued? Another, more buried part of herself basked in the admiration. 

Around all of it, she remembered her meeting with Lois. “What did you hear them saying?” she asked Tara. Tara looked uncomfortable, but Cat waited silently, and after a moment she cracked.

“He said his parents are recruiting for something,” she muttered. “He said that they ask nicely first, and that if Dom’s parents know what’s good for them, that’s when they’ll say yes.” 

Cat nodded, storing the information away. “Alright. And Creed — don’t let anyone tell you you’re not a Slytherin, because you are. That means that you’re strong enough and smart enough to start saving yourself instead of waiting around for a rescue, you got me?”

Tara stared at her for a moment, and when she nodded, it was like a promise. Cat nodded back.

She was strong enough to save herself, but Cat wondered if she could be strong enough to save everybody. She had to believe that the answer was yes.

**

It hadn’t escaped Cat’s attention that Morgan had believed her when she’d threatened to tattle on him to Non. He was older than her, and clearly already involved in The Order of Rozz in a very hands-on way — he shouldn’t have been frightened of her. But he had taken her seriously, and he had backed down. 

It was getting harder for Cat to deny that her mother must truly be in the thick of things. That was a hard thought, but it was something Cat could  _ use  _ if she was smart enough. When she met Lois on the 7th floor, she was ready to start talking about how.

Lois was waiting impatiently by the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy when Cat arrived.

“Took you long enough, Grant.”

“Whatever,” Cat muttered, and didn’t mention the uneasy tension in their house, or the way that Leslie had stuck to her side like a limpet until Cat had finally feigned a lover’s tryst to escape the common room without her. She hadn’t missed the way Leslie’s face had twisted a little even as she’d seen Cat off with a lewd comment. 

It was for the best.

“Why are we up here in this boring hallway, Lane?”

“Stand here,” Lois instructed her, and then began to pace in front of the wall.

“We need a place for research and planning,” she muttered to herself as she walked. Cat watched her, bemused for a moment, and then opened her mouth to deliver from a wide choice of scathing commentary when, to her shock, a door grew out of nowhere.

“In here,” Lois said, and pulled it open. Cat followed her through and her jaw dropped. The small space was  _ exactly  _ what they needed. Something about the shape of it was reminiscent of Cat’s mother’s study, but it was everything that Katherine’s chosen lair was so conspicuously lacking - warm, homey. The space was all reds and greens and browns, a clear attempt to compromise between Lois and Cat’s decorative preferences. There was an overstuffed leather couch in front of a crackling fire that looked extremely comfortable, but more important was the large bulletin board on the wall, and the bookshelves next to it with titles visible like, “Lines of Purity: A History of Wizarding Genealogy” and “You Know Who? Who Knows Who: An Inside Look at the Underbelly of British Magical Politics.” 

“This…. isn’t terrible,” Cat admitted begrudgingly. Lois looked smug. Cat suppressed the urge to wipe it off her face in favor of getting a closer look at the bookshelf.

“We need a starting point,” Cat said. “I think we should start with some lists. I’ll put together a list of Non’s supporters, you put together a list of people involved in resisting him. We’re looking for connections between them - if there’s a spy, it’s someone who has access to both sides of this. If it gives us a trail to Non’s real identity, even better.”

“Neither of us has anything like a complete list for that,” Lois pointed out. “We’re school children. There’s going to be a lot of luck involved in this. I doubt that was more than a 50th of Non’s support network at that stupid party, what are the chances that our spy was included?” Despite her protests, she sat down at the large double-sided desk and pulled a sheet of parchment in front of her.

“I may not know much now, but I can find out,” Cat answered grimly, and didn’t elaborate on how. The plan was already forming in her mind - had been for awhile, if she was honest with herself.

Next to the Morgans’ name on her list she wrote, “recruiters.” 

**

The rest of Cat’s fourth year started to take shape. It wasn’t hard to start making herself a center of information in Slytherin. She was on the quidditch team, she had been at Non’s dinner. She was already in the thick of it, and nobody questioned her when she kept herself there, making sly self-important insinuations and sharply tracking the reactions she got in response. She also flirted outrageously; she was starting to like the effect of the sharp edges and curves of her body, the weird power they gave her. It was so easy to make smart people stupid with them.

A couple of nights later, Leslie cornered her in their dormroom.

“Where have you been sneaking out to every evening, exactly?” she asked, leaning against Cat’s four-poster bed.

“Oh, well,” Cat smirked, “there are some things that a dorm living situation just isn't suited to…”

Leslie rolled her eyes. “Look, Cat, despite how enormously bitchy you are before coffee, I think of us as friends…”

“Don’t overstate things,” Cat shot back half-heartedly, stiffening. She’d been dreading this conversation for almost six months - she spent too much time around Leslie not to notice the occasional heart eyes. She didn’t know what she was going to say to turn her down.

She was so busy panicking about it that the next words out of Leslie’s mouth took her completely by surprise.

“I know the little Hufflepuff that follows you around is Kara Zor-El.”

It was like being hit by ice water.

“Is that who you’ve been meeting with?” Leslie pushed. “You used to meet her by the lake every evening, but I haven’t seen you around there lately.”

The truth was that Cat hadn’t seen Kara since their first day back, a quiet ignored ache in the back of her mind. She’d been too busy cozying up to her Slytherin classmates and sneaking off to meet with Lois after hours. She’d barely even slept.

“I…. may have seen her around once or twice. I’m curious about the magic she was doing at Christmas,” Cat allowed, mind racing. How could she play this conversation? Why hadn’t it occurred to her until now that Leslie would have recognized Kara at Christmas? She’d been too damn busy worrying over whether  _ Kara  _ had recognized  _ Cat _ . 

These were the kind of _ stupid _ mistakes that she couldn’t afford.

“So you’re, what…. spying for us?” Leslie scoffed. “I’m not an idiot, Cat - I know you’ve always liked the kid. A weird amount, frankly, given that she never even seemed capable of brushing her hair. And then it turned out that she could fly.”

Cat let herself sag.

“I did like her,” she admitted. “Or at least, I liked the way she liked me - it was nice being worshipped, a little. But do you know what I don’t like? I don’t like being crucio’d.” It was hard to choke that out - hard to use it as a piece of the deception, but there was too much at stake for her to keep anything untouched. “I don’t like the way that my family dissolved into poverty when my father died. I don’t like the way my mother has to scramble and grovel for approval, or the way that she mistakes it for respect.”

Leslie was eyeing her warily now and Cat stood tall and stared her down, embodying the truth of what she was saying, letting it become the whole truth, just for a moment. 

“I have plans, Willis. I’m smart, I’m ambitious, and I know what I want. I’m not going to throw any of it away for some little kid. If I can use her then I will. And if you’re smart, you’re going to be my ally and not my enemy.”

“Merlin, chill out, Cat,” Leslie snapped back, but she looked shaken. “I don’t deserve this bullshit, I was  _ trying  _ to be your friend.”

“Good,” Cat answered. “I want to be friends.” She eyed Leslie for the effect of that statement, and seeing that it hadn’t been enough, she softened just a little more. “I - liked being real friends with you this summer,” she said, and tried to imply ice wine and kisses with her tone, with the tilt of her hips.

She’d practiced that hip-tilt in the mirror.

When Leslie reached out and ran two fingers daringly along that jutting hip, Cat didn’t pull away. “I didn’t think you were interested,” Leslie said. She sounded uncertain and resentful.

Cat needed her not to be resentful. She needed Leslie agreeable, needed her not to reveal Kara’s secret, not to reveal  _ Cat’s  _ secret.

“It felt complicated,” she said, and let her voice wobble with uncertainty. She’d never felt less uncertain in her life - she felt ruthless. “But it doesn’t have to be, does it? We could be the easiest thing in the world.”

When Leslie leaned in to kiss her, Cat let her.

**

Two weeks later, Ravenclaw played Gryffindor at quidditch, and Cat found Kara on her way out to the stands.

“Hey there, Danvers,” she drawled, and Kara spun, startled, before a wide grin lit up her face.

“Cat! How are you?” 

“Can’t complain,” Cat answered, though she’d been averaging about 2 hours of sleep a night for the past two weeks. She held up a thermos. “Thought we could go for a walk if you’re free.”

“Alright,” Kara agreed, but she said it hesitantly. Her smile dimmed just a bit. “Or we could go watch the game together?”

“Were you all that interested? Your house isn’t even playing,” Cat pointed out, and Kara pursed her lips. It was objectively adorable.

“I’ve been trying to get involved,” she insisted stubbornly. Cat lifted one eyebrow and waited. It took Kara approximately four seconds to cave. “And James says you only want to hang out with me when no one will see.”

Cat sighed. “Look, come for a walk with me, alright?” she said, and started off before Kara could marshal another argument. She heard a frustrated puff of air behind her, and then, after a moment, trotting feet as Kara made her decision and caught u

She waited until they were out by the lake before she said, “you know, my father died when I was four years old.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kara offered. She sounded confused, but the sympathy was genuine. Cat smiled a little, because it wasn’t like she was  _ looking  _ for sympathy at the moment, but somehow from Kara, it was still nice. Kara was so warm.

“Don’t be — I barely remember him. It’s not so much his death that was the tragedy as the aftermath, I suppose. While he was alive, my father was a career politician. He was also not very good with money. He spent a lot of time in debt, and he often paid them back with the promise of favors. Once he died, my mother didn’t really have the means to follow through on any of what he promised. Our family lost everything, and she has spent her entire life —  _ my  _ entire life — trying to convince the world that we still have it.”

Kara was silent, thoughtful. After a moment she ventured, “some of the people you hang out with — it seems like they'd do a lot to hang onto power.” Cat knew she was thinking of The Order of Rozz, thinking about her sister. 

“I know,” Cat answered, and let it hang heavily between them for a few moments before she added, “I hope you know that my motivations are different than theirs.”

Kara slipped a hand into Cat’s. “I trust you,” she said simply, and Cat hoped she could live up to it.

*****

There was a divide in Slytherin. They knew, without having to talk about it, whose families were part of the Order and who was separate. Tara Creed, whose uncle disappeared, was even quieter and shyer than before, staying huddled with her books in the far corner of the common room.

Cat wondered if the other houses were as aware of what was happening as Slytherin was. She suspected not. There were whispers about the number of disappearances. People like Lois, whose parents worked for the ministry, probably had a sense that something was amiss. But the name “Order of Rozz” hadn't made it into the newspapers. Nobody was _ saying anything _ .

It made it hard to get real information, but Cat was ruthless in tracking things down. She started to find the tactics that worked, the ways and the moments that people could be approached so that their secrets could be slipped out of their pockets without them even noticing.

At breakfast one morning, she saw an owl land in front of Gerry Blackwood. It was a handsome white animal, and the letter it was carrying bore Blackwood’s family seal.

Gerry took the letter and slit it open, casually reaching for the tea and in the process tilting himself so that no one would be able to see its contents over his shoulder. Cat narrowed in on him, and then she leaned casually against Derek Travett’s side, so that her body was pressed against him alluringly. He looked startled but pleased, and put an arm around her shoulder.

“Anything interesting, Gerry?” She asked, and he looked up from his letter to see her peering around Travett’s arm to talk to him, Travett suddenly looking much less pleased.

She'd been flirting with all of them, just a little. Not enough for any one of them to think he’d won her, but enough that all of them seemed ready to try. They were 16 and hormonal, and Cat’s robes were impeccably tailored, her glamour spells well practiced. Their egos were so easily stroked.

Gerry smirked at her, puffed with self importance as he said, “news from home,” in a weighty voice, implying some kind of important information. Not that she trusted his word of course, but she rewarded him for the attempt by detangling herself from Travett and leaning closer.

“My father has just been promoted. It's been coming of course,” he claimed, and other Slytherin eyes looked up sharply from their breakfasts. Blackwood’s father had never done well at the Ministry. Blackwood seemed to realize the transparency of the lie, and turned slightly red.

“Congratulations, Gerry. He’ll probably still be in a good mood next week when he hears the results of Henshaw’s essay,” Cat teased to smooth over the moment, and the people around her laughed.

The stage was set though, and it was all too easy later for Cat to find out from Blackwood that his father had been promoted within the judicial department at the Ministry, and would now be working directly under Rebecca Dycot, the head of the department. The promotion had been granted by Jamison Wheeler, whose role as head of the hiring committee was to  be an impartial judge of higher level government hirings. 

Gerry didn't even know he'd said anything important. He thought he’d been bragging idly to a pretty girl. That was the skill Cat was developing this year. But Cat knew that Dycot had always been firmly for muggle rights. She knew that Wheeler had always previously seemed genuinely impartial, and she knew that he was on the list of people Morgan had been working on. 

After arithmancy, her last class of the day, Cat slipped off to the room of requirement and added the name “Jamison Wheeler” to a list they'd titled “imperius/coercion.”

 

Lois was already there. They'd been trying to vary their meeting times after Cat's confrontation with Leslie. She watched grimly as Cat also added Rebecca Dycot to their watch-list, running a red thread from Blackwood’s name to Dycot’s to indicate that he had regular contact with her.

The bulletin boards along the wall were becoming an intricate web of names, events, and connecting threads. A picture was slowly forming, and it was grim. Large parts of the ministry were under Non’s influence, by choice or otherwise.

“I can't keep sneaking off in the middle of the day, people are asking where I’ve been,” was all Lois said. “We need to go back to meeting after curfew more often.”

“I can't,” Cat snapped back. “My dorm mates are a hell of a lot more suspicious of that than they are of me disappearing during the day. Make up a hobby. Or just let them think you're fucking someone in the greenhouse. It's not that hard, Lane.”

“Is that where all your Slytherin friends think you are?” Lois asked, an edge of vindictiveness lining her voice, and Cat wanted to hit her. Lois didn't think highly of the way Cat got boys to talk to her. 

They sniped pettily at each other, and researched, and left unspoken the giant truth that was hanging on the wall in front of them: that they weren’t going to be able to spot a spy. There were dozens of people who could be playing both sides, there were people imperiused and people being blackmailed. There were people whose disappearances could be murders or kidnappings or successful recruits with no way to differentiate. 

The goal had changed, and neither of them dared say it out loud. But neither of them questioned it, either, when the next time they entered the room of requirement, a printing press had appeared. They both knew what it was for.


End file.
